The Night of the Magician
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: Time-travel verse. Jim and Arte are visiting their friends in the 21st century. While Arte seeks to find a way to close the portal to undesirables, Jim discovers that a new movie is being made about them and the Feathered Fury case. He also discovers that the prop toy chicken is actually the genuine article, something Count Manzeppi also knows.
1. Chapter 1

**The Wild Wild West**

 **The Night of the Magician**

 **By Lucky_Ladybug**

 **Notes: The characters from shows are not mine. The other characters and the story are! I have wanted to tell this story for years, but always hesitated. The plot never felt fully fleshed-out. Then I re-watched the** _ **Mannix**_ **episode** _ **The Playground**_ **and the rest of it all fell into place. This takes place in my time-travel verse, where there's a portal connecting the Old West with the present-day and Jim and Arte can pass freely back and forth. Characters from the** _ **Poisonous Posey**_ **and** _ **Sudden Plague**_ **episodes are also around and some of them are allies of Jim and Arte's. Also, favorite old shows of mine that do not need to be period pieces will mildly cross over. Ray Norman is from the** _ **Cannon**_ **episode** _ **Hear No Evil.**_ **Mitch Cantrell is Robert Conrad's character in** _ **The Playground**_ **, so of course there will be in-jokes about him and Jim.**

 **Chapter One**

 _Los Angeles, present-day_

Jim West folded his arms and watched as Artemus Gordon leaned forward at the table in Ray Norman's recreation room at the Oak Bridge Golf Club, making notes and working on charts. He had been hard at work on that ever since the disaster with Dr. Loveless and Tycho had ended. Even though it had had a favorable outcome, Artemus wasn't willing to chance that another episode with a supervillain coming through the portal would end just as favorably. He wanted to close it off to all but a few before it could happen again.

"So, Arte, are you any closer to figuring out that special door and key you were talking about?" Jim spoke at last.

"Just about," Arte said with distracted pleasure. "Once I fix up that portal, only a select number of people will possess the keys to make it open. Then we won't have to worry about Dr. Loveless or Tycho or anyone else coming through and terrorizing the people living here."

"Unless they're already here," Jim remarked.

That brought Arte's attention up with a start and a scowl. "James, don't say things like that!" he scolded. "You'll have me in nightmares for weeks!"

Jim shrugged as he turned to walk away. "I just thought it was something we should be thinking about."

"You think about it, Jim. I've got other things on my mind." Arte immediately went back to his charts.

Jim left him alone and headed into the corridor. While he had encouraged Arte in figuring out how to close off the portal, Arte had thrown himself full-force into the task. He had been very disinterested in everything else ever since, even the continuing exploration of the modern world. Knowing how Arte got whenever he was inventing something, Jim had accepted that he would largely be on his own for a while.

Jim and Arte had experienced the strangest things all throughout their tenure as President Grant's trusted Secret Service agents. They had witnessed, among other things, mad scientists bringing people back from the dead, the philosopher's stone turning objects and people into gold, and bitter Confederate soldiers mastering time-travel. But when Dr. Faustina had decided to revive Lucrece Posey's entire gang, the immense energy involved had eventually torn a hole through space and time and connected Justice, Nevada circa 1874 with Los, Angeles, California circa 2012. Ever since then, Jim and Arte had been having strange adventures in both time periods, not the least of which had been stopping Dr. Loveless and Tycho from decimating the modern city.

It was also strange, Jim reflected, that some of their old enemies were now allies. Coley Rodman and Lafe Morgan from the _Sudden Plague_ case had both helped them a great deal and were trying to live honest lives working in Ray Norman's golf club. And traitorous Snakes Tolliver, who for a while had desperately tried to rid both times of the Posey gang to keep himself alive and out of their furious clutches, had in the end nearly sacrificed himself to stop a doomsday plot. He, also, had decided to try to go straight, albeit his occupation of choice was professional gambler and dealer at a casino in nearby subdivision Gardena, where casino-style gambling was legal. Lucrece Posey and the rest of her gang from the _Poisonous Posey_ case refused to go straight, but for the moment they were laying low, at least.

It hadn't been that long since the defeat of Dr. Loveless and Tycho, who had escaped back to the 1870s following the destruction of their plot. Jim and Arte hadn't gone home since then, feeling it was imperative to both times to seal the portal to all undesirables first. And so here they were, with Arte occupied in his task and Jim wandering the halls.

He wasn't expecting to nearly plow into Ray Norman, the owner and manager of Oak Bridge, as he came in the opposite direction with a newspaper he was entranced by. "Whoa," Jim exclaimed, taking hold of Ray's shoulders. "What's got you so interested?"

Ray jumped a mile. "Oh! Mr. West. I'm sorry. When I saw this story in the paper, I knew I needed to show it to you and Mr. Gordon immediately." He held it out and Jim accepted.

"I'm afraid Arte's not going to be able to focus on anything other than his invention for the portal for a while," Jim said as he turned the paper around. Then he could only stare.

 _New Movie in Works Based on Early Secret Service Agents_

The article went on to describe plans by Majestic Studios to make a film based on some of the known adventures of Jim West and Artemus Gordon. An actor called Mitch Cantrell, one of Majestic's biggest draws, had been cast as Jim West. Another actor, an unknown, would have his first big break playing Artemus Gordon. The script was being described as an adaptation of one of Jim and Arte's clashes with Count Manzeppi and filming was already underway.

The article also mentioned that this would be the third time Jim and Arte's adventures were brought to life in some form. In the 1960s there had been the television series _The Wild Wild West_ , and in the 1990s, a movie attempt that had by and large bombed.

"Strange, isn't it," Ray exclaimed.

Jim handed him back the newspaper. "It's something to think about, that's for sure. What do you know about the actor playing me?"

"Oh." Ray shifted, looking embarrassed. "Well, he's . . . highly talented. . . . He's already had experience playing in Westerns. . . ."

"I mean his personality," Jim prompted. "What's he like?"

"I've mostly heard rumors," Ray stammered. "The media doesn't always report things like they are."

Jim just stared him down, deadpan. "That bad, huh?"

Ray sighed. "He has a wild reputation, you're right. He rides his motorcycle and his dune buggy all over the studio lot, ignoring the signs to not go faster than 8 miles per hour in some areas. He knocks over anything in his path without caring about the destruction it causes. And he's left a trail of broken hearts a mile long. One woman even killed herself over him. That part isn't just a rumor," he added. "And he certainly didn't seem to care about it."

"You never know what a man might be really thinking," Jim said. "I think I'd like to meet him."

Ray looked worried. "Are you sure that would be a good idea?"

"Most people by now know or at least suspect that time-travel has been going on," Jim said. "When Dr. Loveless and Tycho held Los Angeles hostage in their zeppelin while Dr. Loveless was waiting for me to come, it would have been almost impossible not to come to that conclusion."

"I guess you're right," Ray sighed. "I've certainly seen the tabloids talking about it. But they always report things wrong and sensationalize them anyway."

"Legitimate newspapers reported on the airship incident too," Jim said, "and at least one of them did their homework and wrote all about Dr. Loveless's place of origin and his grudge against me. I wouldn't be surprised if that's why they're doing this movie right now, to capitalize on the publicity from that."

Ray sighed. "So what do you plan to do?" he wondered. "Just walk up to Majestic Studios and say that you want to see their star player?"

"No, I think I'll walk up to Majestic Studios and introduce myself," Jim replied.

Ray glanced over Jim's shoulder. "What about Arte?"

"I'll tell him about it when I get back," Jim said. "Arte's much too involved in solving our portal problem to be bothered about trivial things such as another movie being made about us. By the way, what was the first one like?"

Ray cringed. "I think you're better off not knowing."

"I'll probably hear about it anyway," Jim pointed out. "The news will be comparing this one to that one."

"True." Ray sighed. "Well, the worst thing about it was that they portrayed you and Arte as not trusting each other and turning everything into a competition. It _was_ an attempt to show your first case together, but it still wasn't very flattering. And there was a Dr. Loveless in it, but he wasn't anything like the one we've dealt with."

"And they went overboard with the weird technology," Coley Rodman said suddenly from behind Jim. "Dr. Loveless's pet invention was a giant robot spider that could be ridden in."

Jim looked unfazed. "That's different." He started to walk past, then paused again. "How did the actors look?"

"Not like you guys," Coley said instantly.

"One thing I have to say for Mitch Cantrell," Ray said, "is that he'll look much more like you than Will Smith did."

xxxx

Out of all the places Jim and Arte had visited on their trips to the modern world, movie studios had been among them on one of the more peaceful occasions. Ray had taken them and Coley on a tour of some of the most popular studios in Hollywood. Majestic had not been one of them. Now, as Jim approached and saw a huge poster of Mitch Cantrell smiling for the camera, he had to wonder if that had been the reason why. Perhaps Ray had felt they just weren't ready for a near-perfect double of Jim.

Jim hadn't quite known what to expect at the studio. He hadn't even been sure they would let him in. But the guard took one look at him and immediately lifted the bar across the entrance, exclaiming, "Oh! Come right in, Mr. Cantrell!"

"You've got it wrong," Jim protested as he stepped through. "I'm James West."

The guard laughed. "Of course, Sir. They're ready for you at Stage 13."

"Isn't that bad luck?" Jim quipped, deciding it was better not to continue arguing the point. It would all be straightened out soon enough.

The guard looked amused, but waved him on. Jim went, glancing at the numbers on the buildings as he sought the right one. Soon finding the one with the number 13 painted on it, he stepped inside.

"Alright," an unfamiliar voice echoed through the room. "Now, this brawl scene has to be larger than life. We're giving a nice nod to the old _Wild Wild West_ TV series here. Break furniture! Break the bar! Do anything crazy like that. Manzeppi's men will go to any lengths to get West and pry the chicken from his grasp."

Curious, and raising an eyebrow, Jim drew closer. With the mentions of Count Manzeppi and a chicken, it sounded like they were adapting the _Feathered Fury_ case with some dramatic license thrown in. The brawls during that venture had been on the _Wanderer_ and in Sharff's toy store.

"Do you want to keep in that bit about me swinging on the chandelier?" another voice piped up.

Jim walked faster. It sounded a little like him, only not as deep.

"Of _course_ we want to keep that bit in, Mitch!" the first voice cried. "It's the coolest shot in the scene. But it's supposed to be your stunt double handling it, not you!"

"Let's live a little," Mitch said. "I can handle it just fine."

Now Jim was close enough to see the people talking. Mitch would be impossible to mistake; not only was he dressed in clothes similar to ones Jim owned, his appearance was similar to Jim's in general. It didn't take a lot of stage makeup to make him fully presentable for the part.

The sound of Jim's footsteps on the hard floor finally caused the consulting pair to look up. "Oh!" the first man exclaimed. "You must be Mitch's new stunt double."

"No, actually," Jim quickly inserted before he could be asked to leap off the set's balcony onto the chandelier dangling over the make-believe saloon. "I just came to watch. You see, I'm the real James West."

Dead silence reigned for one long moment. Jim could almost imagine the crickets chirping, like they always did in those old cartoons he had found on television late at night.

It was Mitch who broke the silence with a raucous laugh. "James West, really? So those time-travel stories in the paper are really true, huh?" He didn't give any real indication of whether he believed them or not. But he strolled over, one hand extended, and continued, "I'm telling you, it's a lot of fun playing you in this movie. You really led an action-packed life. The only problem was that you never lived for yourself; it was always to save other people."

Jim disliked Mitch quite instantly. "And you're saying that you've always lived for yourself and no one else," he deduced, not offering a hand to shake.

Mitch wasn't bothered by that. "Of course," he said airily. "That's the only way to live and really be happy."

Jim stared at him without moving. "It's also a great way to lose friends all over the place."

Mitch spun away. "You know, you remind me of someone else I met once. He was just as much of an altruist as you are."

"Mitch! If it hadn't been for him, you would've been killed!" the first man scolded. Jim had a feeling this guy was extremely long-suffering.

"I could've made it out without him," Mitch replied. "But let's forget about that. I've got a scene to do and a brawl to win. Stick around, Mr. West. Tell me what you think of my performance." With that he strolled over to the bar and took a small toy chicken out of his vest pocket.

The first man ran a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Sir," he apologized. "Mitch always speaks his mind, no matter how often I tell him he must use some restraint."

"It's alright," Jim said. "I always speak my mind too."

"I'm Gary Lindsey, the director." He held out a hand to shake.

This time Jim accepted. "Out of curiosity, do you really believe I'm the real James West?"

"Of course!" Gary chirped. "I was there in the crowd the day you stopped Dr. Loveless from destroying the entire city. This movie was in the planning stages at that point. Seeing you gave me the inspiration to plunge ahead and insist on it being rushed into production. I hope you don't mind."

"I'm flattered. But there's a lot of my cases available to the public now," Jim said. "Why did you specially choose this one?"

"It's a great story," Gary grinned. "A mysterious toy chicken that actually holds the fabled philosopher's stone and can turn anything to gold, even people? That's the stuff of legends, fairy tales. This movie's going to have a Halloween release, you know. It's perfect for the season!"

"I can't deny that," Jim admitted. "But this scene didn't happen on that case." He nodded to where a bartender was getting into place to examine the chicken Mitch was holding up.

"Oh, that's artistic license, you know," Gary said. "And the need to stretch out the story. The old TV show told it too, but this movie will run more than twice the length of that episode. Some of the early scenes will show Manzeppi's quest for the stone, how he got it, and how first Mr. Sharff and then his niece Gerda took it away from him in its chicken guise." He grinned. "And the prop there, you see it?"

"I sure do," Jim said. Really, he knew it was ridiculous, but he was getting a very strange feeling about that prop. Even though he couldn't see it well from this distance, it looked so familiar.

"It's the same one they used on the television show," Gary said with pride.

"How you got it would make an interesting story in and of itself," Jim remarked. "Since this is fifty years later."

Gary nodded. "I'll be happy to tell you, Mr. West, but right now we need to film this take. Please do stay and watch, as Mitch suggested."

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be right now," Jim answered.

The scene was an interesting one, although not accurate to the case. Mitch, as Jim, had come to the bar that Count Manzeppi's men frequented in the hopes of either finding them or getting someone to tell him what was so important about the toy chicken. The bartender was no help, but Manzeppi's men were among the patrons. An all-out free-for-all ensued. Tables, chairs, and people flew around the set. Mitch eventually ran up the stairs, punching a guy out of his way, and leaped off the balcony to grab the chandelier.

Jim tensed as he watched. It was a very dangerous stunt. He himself had fallen from a chandelier during the _Fugitive_ case. But Mitch came down without any problems, clunked the two goons' heads together, and calmly walked out the door.

"Cut and print!" Gary yelled. "Mitch, that was perfect!"

Mitch grinned, pleased with himself. "And what did you think, Mr. West?"

"I think it was foolish not to let your stunt double handle the chandelier bit, but overall you managed not too badly," Jim said. "Although knocking Dodo and Luther together is a little on the corny side."

Mitch laughed. "This movie's bound to be corny. It's a big action flick, but it's also paying _homage_ to the 1960s TV series. That thing was often corny."

"In a lovable sort of way, of course," Gary hurriedly added. "Have you ever seen it, Mr. West?"

"A couple of episodes," Jim said vaguely. "It was a strange feeling, watching someone play me and experience what I experienced."

"It would be," Mitch said. "I wonder if anyone will make a movie about my life someday." He smirked. "If they do, they'd better ask me to come play myself. Not that I'd necessarily accept, but I should really be the first choice. After all, no one knows me better than me." He folded his arms. "How do you think I handled playing you?"

"Not bad, but considering that most of this scene was a brawl, that's not really saying much," Jim deadpanned.

"The next scene doesn't have me in it, so I'm gonna go get a soda," Mitch said. "Call me when you need me again!" he yelled to Gary, who looked overwhelmed.

"What is the next scene?" Jim asked before Gary could apologize for Mitch again.

"Count Manzeppi comes in and finds his men," Gary replied.

Jim nodded. "Who's playing him?"

"I was trying to get Seth Taylor, but he turned it down," Gary said. "That's alright, though, because then I found the absolute most perfect person for the part! Here he comes now." He looked to where the door was swinging open. A large man in a top hat and cape strolled in, seeming very much at home in his surroundings.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lindsey, _good afternoon!_ " he cried in an overdramatic voice. "I'm on time, I trust?"

"Oh, yes, Sir!" Gary exclaimed. "Right on time! You look perfectly in-character, as always."

"Naturally." The man swept his cape off his shoulder and behind him. "So the stage is set for my grand entrance?"

"That's right. Just go through the door of the saloon with as much flair as you came in here," Gary encouraged. "And oh, before we start rolling, there's someone I'd like you to meet. Mr. Robespierre, this is the real James West."

"It's good to meet you, Sir," Jim said, politely holding out his hand.

Mr. Robespierre turned to look at him. "Oh, likewise, Mr. West. Likewise." And he smiled a very eerie, very cunning, and very knowing smile before turning away to film his scene.

Jim could only stare after him, his mouth open in a rare visual expression of shock. If it was just his physical appearance, Jim would brush it off, citing the resemblance between himself and Mitch Cantrell. But that smile had said it all.

Count Carlos Mario Vincenzo Robespierre Manzeppi was in the modern world, playing himself in a motion picture.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Arte was hard at work on his portal problem when the phone in the recreation room rang. He frowned, glancing to it. It wasn't just an extension, but a separate line. It was odd that it was ringing, unless Jim was calling him. Come to think of it, he realized, he hadn't seen Jim for a while. It must be important. He got up, making his way to the phone. "Hello?"

"Arte?" It was Jim, alright.

"James, my boy, where are you and what was so critical that you had to interrupt my planning and plotting?" Arte exclaimed.

"Arte, we've got a situation here that I don't entirely know how to explain." Jim sounded dead serious.

Arte immediately sobered up as well. "What is it?"

"Well, what I said about some other villain already being in this time isn't just a possibility anymore. I just encountered Count Manzeppi."

Arte's stomach dropped. "Where?"

"Well, that's where it gets complicated. I'm at Majestic Studios. It's a motion picture company." Jim paused, then continued in complete, calm deadpan. "They're making a film about us and Count Manzeppi. The good Count is playing himself."

Arte froze. ". . . Would you run that by me again, James?"

"Ray has all the latest information in the newspapers. What the papers don't say is that this film is based on the toy chicken case."

"Oh. The philosopher's stone toy chicken," Arte said in recognition.

"That's right. The one that caused Gerda's demise."

"So why would our dear old enemy want to play himself in the film?" Arte said in confusion. "Just for kicks?"

"Maybe he didn't think anyone else could do the job right." Another pause. "Or maybe he has a bigger reason. Maybe he thinks he's once again on the trail of hidden wealth, just like he does in the film and did in the past."

Suddenly Arte got it. "Jim, don't tell me you think maybe he thinks he's found the philosopher's stone again! We saw it destroyed, just like Gerda!"

"Maybe, Arte. We never did know what happened to the 24-karat gold leaf we brought back. You had that theory that maybe if it was exposed to the full moon again, it would take on its original shape. Only it disappeared before we could test it out. Maybe that happened and it was the chicken and not Gerda."

"And then someone swiped it?" Arte shook his head. "This is a wild theory, Jim."

"There's a prop chicken for the film," Jim pointed out. "I don't know where it came from, except that it was also used on the television series in the 1960s. What if it's even older than that? It could be the genuine article."

Now Arte's stomach turned in horror. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to try to get a close look at it," Jim said. "If I'm right, or even if I'm not but Count Manzeppi is thinking the same thing, he's probably planning to steal the chicken once he's in a scene with it."

Arte cringed. "That is an catastrophic thought. Where is this movie studio, Jim? I'll come right out." He quickly jotted down the address Jim gave. "I should be there within a half hour, hopefully. What's Count Manzeppi doing right now?"

"Filming a scene where he finds Dodo and Luther and chews them out for failing to catch me in a bar," Jim said. "Dramatic license."

"Of course." Arte paused. "Has he seen you?"

"Oh yes, and that's how I know it's him and not a look-alike. He made it very clear." Jim hesitated. It might be slightly amusing if Arte didn't know about Mitch Cantrell and the resemblance he bore to Jim. But on the other hand, when the situation had turned so grim, it would probably be better not to let Arte discover that for himself. He might start talking about the delicate situation to Mitch, who would probably just make fun of it or worse. "And Arte? When you come, make sure it's me you're talking to and not the actor playing me in the film."

Arte blinked. "He's that good?"

"It's like the situation with Rodman and Little Pinto."

That brought another very stunned, very appalled expression. "I'll be careful, Jim. And so should you," Arte added.

"I always am," Jim answered as he hung up.

Arte muttered to himself, hurriedly dropping the phone in its cradle and rushing to gather his charts and papers. He didn't dare leave them out for some of the guests to see. He would stuff them back in his room before leaving to meet Jim.

"Hey, Gordon."

Arte turned at the sound of Coley's distinctive voice. He was leaning on the open doorframe, his arms folded as he watched Arte's mad dash over the table. "I can't talk now, Rodman; I've got to get to Jim!" Arte exclaimed. "He says Count Manzeppi's turned up!"

Coley grunted. "That's . . . probably not going to be good for any of us, is it?"

Arte rushed past with the armload of papers. "No, I wouldn't think so. Especially not if there's any chance he's found the philosopher's stone again!"

"What?" Coley scoffed as he followed. "That's just some alchemists' legend."

"Oh, he was very adament that he'd really found it back in our time," Arte insisted. "He showed Jim objects that had been turned to gold after setting under the full moon with the stone. And Jim and I both saw what happened to Gerda Sharff when she tried to steal the stone under the moonlight."

"People can't be turned to gold, no matter what King Midus says," Coley sneered. "You're falling for a fable, Gordon."

"There wasn't any reason for Count Manzeppi to lie to us about what happened," Arte replied.

"Maybe he really believed it, sure," Coley said, "but what about Gerda? Maybe she faked the whole thing so she could run off with the stone. She could've made up a statue."

"I've thought of that," Arte admitted. "But then it pulled its very mysterious disappearing act, along with the golden gun."

"Golden gun?" Coley snarked. "Like in that James Bond picture?"

"I don't know; I haven't seen that one," Arte said distractedly. "Anyway, Jim thinks the real stone is down at some motion picture studio, being used as the prop in a film about us! Count Manzeppi apparently thinks so too. I've got to get down there and find out! Open that door for me, won't you?"

Coley opened the door to Arte's room and let him go past with his haul. Arte spread his load on the desk and rushed to the door again, pulling it shut after him.

Coley still followed. "If this Count is such bad news, I think I'd like to meet him and see what we're up against," he said.

"Then come along if you want to," Arte said, digging in his pocket for his car keys. He was very proud of having earned his driving license in this time period and always loved being the one to drive. Coley, preferring motorcycles to cars, didn't have any objection.

"I was coming to see if I could," Coley admitted. "And to tell you about the newspaper with the motion picture story in it."

"The one Ray told Jim about?" Arte deduced.

"Yeah." Coley pulled the rolled paper out of his back pocket. "Here."

Arte took and spread it out, reading while they walked.

Coley shook his head in amusement. "If somebody suddenly opens their door, you're going to smack right into it."

"I'm being careful," Arte retorted.

A meow from the corner up ahead made them both pause. "Hey, Jane," Coley grunted, bending down to pet the silver Persian cat who resided at the golf club permanently with her owner Mrs. Featherstone.

"Hello, Jane," Arte echoed, looking down from the newspaper. "I'm terribly sorry, but we must be going."

Jane merowed, not particularly pleased at Coley leaving but not protesting in panic, either. Apparently, if her sixth sense was still sharp, nothing terrible would happen to him and Arte if they left.

"I'll be back soon," Coley said. "Hopefully."

Jane nuzzled his hand. When Coley straightened to go, she let him. But she followed him to the door and watched him head for the parking lot with Arte.

"It still amazes me how much that little cat seems to understand," Arte remarked.

"Sometimes it amazes me too," Coley said matter-of-factly.

xxxx

Jim stayed at the studio while waiting for Arte, worriedly observing Count Manzeppi and wondering what was going to happen next. Naturally the man was getting a great deal of pleasure out of playing himself and was milking it for all it was worth. But that certainly wasn't his only purpose in being here, and Jim was certain more and more that the truth must revolve around that little prop chicken.

When the scene was finished, Gary looked around in frustration. "Mitch still isn't back and he has to carry the next scene," he exclaimed.

"Now, I wouldn't worry about our erstwhile friend Mr. Cantrell," Manzeppi said as he strode off the set. "He always returns once it's time to film his scenes."

"We have to film one right now and he's not here," Gary griped. He stalked away from the set. "I'm going to go find him. Or find someone else to find him."

Manzeppi just smiled, entertained but sympathetic, and addressed Jim. "Isn't it a shame, how often actors allow themselves to be overcome by that base treachery that is pride?"

"I'm thinking more that it's a shame Arte couldn't have figured out how to seal the portal before you came through, Count," Jim replied coolly. "The last thing the 21st Century needs is you."

Manzeppi's smile turned dark. "I'll be gone as soon as I find what I'm seeking. Once I have that incomparable prize, it won't matter whether I'm in 2013 or 1874."

"And what if you can't find it?" Jim retorted. "What if that innocent-looking prop really is just a prop?"

"Then I will have to continue my search elsewhere. But just imagine, Mr. West, if the mighty philosopher's stone was reconstituted and has survived through the ages in that most humble of callings." Manzeppi's eyes gleamed. "Could it have truly lain dormant all these decades, the owners never aware of what they actually possessed? The fools! Ah, but soon that will all be over. I will steal away with their precious prop and test it under the full moon. Only that will assure us of our fine feathered friend's true identity."

"You could simply break into the prop department at night and take it," Jim pointed out. "Why all this?"

"Because, Mr. West, I have a certain desire to see this production completed. If the dwellers in this modern age are to learn about yours truly, what better way than to learn from the real McCoy?"

"Then it would seem, Count, that you're experiencing a little pride yourself."

Unfazed, Manzeppi said, "Vanity, perhaps. Not pride!"

"The distinction escapes me," Jim remarked.

Manzeppi had no opportunity to explain the difference, as the door opened and Gary and Mitch came back. Fixing Jim with a nasty smile, Manzeppi said loudly, "Well, this has truly been an enjoyable meeting, Mr. West. I do hope you will take great pleasure in watching this motion picture unfold."

"I'm sure of it," Jim replied.

"Especially with me playing him," Mitch grinned.

Gary threw his hands in the air. "Where's our Artemus? We need him to come back to the bar with Mitch now."

Almost as if on cue, the door opened again and a rather uncertain Arte wandered in, accompanied by a very neutral Coley. "Um . . . I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but is there a Mr. Lindsey here?" Arte asked.

"Gordy!" Gary exclaimed, hurrying over. "You're all dressed for the scene. Wonderful!"

Coley folded his arms, looking amused. Jim, coming over as well, waited to speak in order to see how Arte would handle the situation.

At the moment, Arte was just standing there looking extremely awkward. "No, Mr. Lindsey," he said with a nervous smile, "you see, I'm not Gordy. I'm really Artemus Gordon." From Arte's expression, he wasn't sure how this news would be received.

Gary looked like he wasn't sure if it was a joke or not. "Mr. West?" he said uncertainly.

Jim stepped forward. "Yes, Mr. Lindsey, this is Artemus. I called him a while ago from the telephone in this building."

Understanding shone in Gary's eyes. "Oh! You wanted him to see the masterpiece we're making?"

"Yes," Jim smiled before Arte could get a word in. "And we wondered if you'd tell us how you found the prop chicken you're using for the film."

"I'd be happy to," Gary said. "Just as soon as we finish filming. This scene is supposed to be the last one for a few hours. When it's night, we need to do some outdoor location shooting."

"That's fair enough," Jim said.

Arte, realizing Jim was running the show, hurriedly nodded. "Oh. . . . Oh yes, very fair." He looked around the building, his attention immediately shifting. "This is amazing! Imagine, a motion picture all about Jim and me!"

"Yes, we're very proud of it," Gary said. "Oh." Suddenly noticing Coley, he asked, "Excuse me, are you in this picture?"

"Not that I know of," Coley grunted. "I came in with him." He indicated Arte.

"This is Coley Rodman," Arte added.

"Of course!" Gary still looked enthusiastic. "You were one of the hostages when Dr. Loveless terrorized the city in his zeppelin."

Coley didn't look especially pleased to be remembered for that, but he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I was."

Gary barely heard him. The door had opened once more and this time it seemed to be Gordy. Gary rushed over before Coley had even quite finished talking. "Gordy!" he cried. "This time it is you. Come over here and meet the man you're playing!"

Gordy blinked in amazement. "You're Artemus Gordon?!" He smiled big. "I'm so glad to meet you, Sir!" He held out a hand to shake.

"Well . . ." Arte couldn't deny he liked the attention and recognition. "It's good to meet you, Gordy." He accepted the handshake. "I'm anxious to see your performance. I have to say, you've got some big shoes to fill."

"Oh, I know, Sir!" Gordy looked like a starstruck fanboy. "I'll do my best!"

Now Mitch was sauntering over. "Artemus Gordon, huh?" he mused. "Are you as much of an altruist as your friend here is?"

"I like to think so," Arte said. "Maybe even moreso." He smiled, although Jim could tell he felt strange talking to a double of Jim.

Mitch laughed. "I wouldn't have you guys' jobs for anything. But _playing_ Jim West, now, that's going to make this movie one of the biggest hits of this year."

"You mean because you're playing me as opposed to someone else playing me?" Jim said.

"Something like that," Mitch said. "After all, we can't have a nobody playing the great James West. There has to be some big name to sell this picture to the public. I'm sorry to say it, but just your name alone won't cut it, not after everybody was disappointed by the last attempt to make a movie about you and Mr. Gordon."

"I suppose that makes sense," Jim said with a noncommittal shrug.

A flash of embarrassed anger went through Gordy's eyes. But he said nothing, instead hurrying over to take directions from Gary.

Arte watched him go. "As I recall, this is his first big picture," he mused.

"That's all the more reason they need a big name in there too," said Mitch. "Something to assure audiences they're in for something of quality."

"You've assured us," Jim said, irritated now. "I think it's time for you to go play Secret Service man."

Mitch glanced to where Gary was pointing at where Gordy should stand for the opening of the scene. "You're right," he said. "See you around. We'll talk more later." He strolled over, deliberately not moving fast.

"I can hardly wait," Arte muttered sarcastically under his breath. Looking to Jim, he said, "Is _this_ the legacy you really want to leave whatever descendants we might have?"

"Not really, Arte," Jim grunted, "but it's out of my hands."

"Oh, come on now," Arte retorted. "You could protest the casting if you really wanted to."

"I really would like to, but in the end neither of us got into this line of work because we thought we'd be famous 140 years later," Jim said flatly. "It's annoying to see someone like Mitch Cantrell playing me, but in the big picture, does it really matter? We've got more important things to worry about."

Arte sighed in resignation. "I can't argue with that," he conceded, raising his hands halfway and then dropping them again.

Coley nodded in agreement. "With any luck, maybe his West won't come across as being as much of a conceited clod as he is."

"He'd have to really be a great actor for that to happen," Arte said. "Or rather, _not_ happen."

Jim smiled slightly. "At least the actor playing you seems like a nice guy."

Arte considered that and nodded. "That's true." He made a concentrated effort to focus on the case. "So what's our next move?"

"Well, Count Manzeppi doesn't want to leave until the filming is done, believe it or not," said Jim. "Apparently he wants to make this an immortal performance of his. So I think that once it's dark, we should find a way to get close enough to the chicken that we can take and test it under the moon." He looked to Arte seriously. "They're going to be filming outside tonight."

"And it's the full moon," Arte finished. "I know, I know. If it's the real chicken, something could go catastrophically wrong. We could end up with a solid gold Mitch Cantrell."

"Exactly," said Jim as he started to walk back towards the indoor set. "And I doubt even he deserves that."

Arte followed him. "What are you going to do?"

"Right now?" Jim nodded towards the set. "I'm going to watch the show."

"Oh." Arte smiled. "Then I think we'll watch with you." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Coley wandering over too. "We've never watched a motion picture being made before."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

True to his word, Gary came back over to Jim and company once the indoor filming wrapped up. "Well," he said, seeming energetic and buoyed up, "that was a good day. Do you still want to hear about the prop chicken?"

"We certainly do," said Jim.

Gary nodded and started walking towards the back of the building. "Then come over to this food cart and we'll talk about it." He grabbed several donuts as they reached the cart. "Oh, and feel free to help yourselves."

Coley immediately snatched a donut. Amused, Jim took one as well. Arte examined every type of food on the cart before at last selecting some.

"Well," said Gary, his mouth full of donut, "so when I decided to make this story, I wondered what kinds of props were available from the original television series. I thought it would be amazing if I could find some to use. Of course, many things have been destroyed by now or naturally deteriorated. Some are with the cast and crew or private collectors. But the very one I wanted, the toy chicken, didn't seem to be anywhere.

"Since classic television series often reused old props, I started wondering if the chicken could have ended up on another series. Once I started investigating, I soon found that I was exactly right. It had appeared on several different shows as a children's toy before vanishing into the prop box for one of those other shows."

"And you dug it out of there," Arte surmised.

"I tried to," Gary said. "Someone else had already taken it. But I kept searching and finally had a lead. It was with one of the then-child actors on the last series the chicken had appeared on. He still owns the chicken, but he agreed to let me borrow it for this film. I've had several back-up copies made and I'll give him the original once filming concludes."

"That's quite a history," Jim said.

"Isn't it?" Gary said proudly.

"Do you know what happened to it before it was ever on _The Wild Wild West_ television series?" Jim asked.

Gary blinked. "Why, no. As far as I know, it was made for that." He paused. "But I guess it's possible it was being recycled even then. That's an interesting thought. I'll have to see if there's anyone still around who might know the answer to that question."

"Mr. Lindsey . . ." Arte started to say, then hesitated. Did they really want to tell this man that there was a chance the chicken was the genuine philosopher's stone before they had the opportunity to investigate it themselves? ". . . What do you do with the chicken between filming?" he queried instead.

"Back to the prop room, of course," Gary said. "And since it's on loan, it's under lock and key."

"I'm sure the owner appreciates that," said Jim.

"Oh, he does," Gary nodded. "It wasn't one of the stipulations of the agreement, but it's just a little something extra to show our good intentions."

"So is this thing actually worth something being so old or is it just a keepsake?" Coley wondered.

"It's worth quite a lot, considering its condition and its past," Gary said. "We had it appraised before filming began. You'd be amazed by how much objects from that era go for, Mr. Rodman."

"Yeah, I probably would be," Coley grunted.

"People always like to hold on to their past," Gary said. "That's why antique shops are perennially popular."

"Hopefully no one has designs on the chicken," Jim spoke up. "With it being so valuable, someone might decide to steal it and try to sell it to an antique shop."

"I don't think anyone involved with this production would do such a thing," Gary frowned, "but of course the thought has occurred to me. I've done all I can to keep it safe. Including keeping one of the decoys where the real chicken is supposed to be."

Arte started to smile. "Mr. Lindsey, you're our kind of man!"

Jim looked impressed too. "And where do you keep the real one?"

Gary glanced around. "I won't say in here, just in case the wrong person might be listening. But the decoy chicken is always discreetly switched for the real one immediately before filming begins each day and switched back at the end."

"What about in a situation like today's, where you're going to pick up filming again after dark?" Jim wondered.

"It's still put away for the time being," Gary said. "You never know what could happen during the interim."

"No, we certainly don't," said Arte. "By the way, what scenes are you planning to film tonight?"

"Mainly some of the early stuff with Count Manzeppi's search for the stone," Gary said. "We don't film many scenes in order, you know; we try to catch all the scenes in each location at once, no matter how far apart the scenes will actually be in the movie."

Jim nodded. "That makes sense."

Arte, however, was both confused and amazed. "Your actors must be highly impressive, to be able to film scenes out of order and have their reactions make sense when the scenes are shown _in_ order," he declared.

"Yes, very," Gary said proudly. "All movie and television actors have to be able to do that. Of course, some are better than others. And I have to admit, for good or bad, Mitch is one of the best. He takes direction just like that and you never have to tell him twice how you want a scene done."

"Too bad he has such an attitude problem," Coley remarked.

Gary sighed. "That, unfortunately, is a plague with many actors. Mitch certainly isn't the only one."

"And it didn't start with this modern age, either," Arte remarked. "Jim and I have both known some stage actors who really took the cake."

"You said something earlier about someone having wanted to kill him," Jim remembered. "What was that all about?"

Now Gary looked awkward. "Well . . . that was . . ." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Someone kept setting up these 'accidents' to try to get rid of Mitch. A private detective was hired to look into things and he eventually turned up the truth that it was Mitch's only really close friend. See, there was this incident sometime back with a woman killing herself over Mitch dropping her, and it was the friend's wife."

Arte grimaced. "And said friend wanted revenge, of course."

Gary nodded. "But only after Mitch was an even bigger star, so he'd have so much more to lose. The friend bided his time for five years, all while pretending to feel perfectly fine about things to Mitch's face."

"He must have been quite an actor himself," Jim remarked.

"He was, obviously." Gary sighed. "If only he would have put his full talents to use for the studio and not against Mitch. He was Mitch's original stunt double, but he could have been a star in his own right."

"Is he dead now?" Arte cautiously asked.

"Oh no. He's in prison," Gary said. "I'm glad he's not dead, honestly. There's a lot of men who would have easily snapped given the same circumstances. I'm the first to admit that Mitch is no prize as a person." He glanced to Jim, looking embarrassed again. "But he's got a home here at Majestic for as long as he wants to stay. And I mean that quite literally; he actually lives on the lot."

"Seriously?" Coley raised an eyebrow. "It sounds like he finds the movies more real than real-life."

"I think he does," Gary admitted. "But all actors are a little eccentric in some ways."

"Or a lot of ways," Arte muttered. Louder he said, "Well, thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Lindsey. We've really enjoyed ourselves, for the most part."

"You're most certainly welcome, but really, I should be thanking you," Gary gushed. "This picture wouldn't exist without both of you and your adventures. Feel free to stick around or come back for the nighttime filming, even though neither of you will be in the scenes."

"We wouldn't miss it," Jim said. "But tell us, Mr. Lindsey, how did you come up with your ideas for these early Count Manzeppi scenes? Did you make it all up yourself or did you have some inside information on what really happened?"

"Well . . . mostly I'm basing it on what Manzeppi said in the television episode," Gary said. "And then Mr. Robespierre has provided some intriguing tips."

"I'm sure," said Jim.

"If you have anything to add yourself . . . ?" Gary added hopefully.

"We might," Jim said noncommittally. "But it would help if we could look at the script. Then if we had any advice on certain scenes, we could tell you before you're actually filming those scenes."

"That's an excellent point," Gary agreed. "I'll see that you get a copy of the script tonight."

"Thank you," Jim said with a nod. "How long is it before you start filming again?"

"Oh . . ." Gary glanced at the clock. "Two, three hours. Maybe four."

"Then I think we'll leave for now and come back later," Jim said.

"Of course," Gary said. "You're special guests of Majestic from this time on. You'll be welcome to come and go as much as you please, gentlemen. I'll have passes for you when you come back."

"That's very generous of you, Mr. Lindsey," said Arte. "Really, thank you so much."

"Could we bring one or two people with us when we come back?" Coley wondered. "I'd like to show this to a couple of my friends."

"The other hostages from Dr. Loveless's zeppelin scheme?" Gary asked.

"Uh . . . yeah," Coley said, still feeling a bit strange for everyone to be remembered because of that.

"I'd love to meet them!" Gary declared. "Please bring them. I'll have passes for them as well."

"Thanks," Coley said.

Jim glanced to him and then back to Gary. "So that would be three more passes," he said. Deadpanning, he added, "I think we'll be leaving the cat home."

"Hmm? Oh. Yes." Gary grabbed another donut and stepped away from the food cart. "I'm sure she's a very well-behaved feline; she sounded like it from the news coverage of the zeppelin situation. But it might be better to leave her off the studio lot, at least for now."

"Actually, she wouldn't be any trouble," Coley grunted. "She'd stay with us instead of going off wandering. But I don't know if her owner would want her coming here. At least, probably not without her along too."

Gary considered that. "Well, we'll see how it goes, then. I'll have the passes ready at the front gate."

"Thank you," Jim said again.

They headed outside and over to Arte's car, Coley getting in the back to allow Jim to sit up front with Arte. As Arte drove out of the parking space and over to the gate, Coley leaned forward and crossed his arms on the top of the front seat. "That won't be a problem to bring the others, will it?" he asked. "I thought this'd be something worth showing Lafe. And I figured Ray and Snakes might get a kick out of it."

"If Mr. Lindsey isn't bothered, it's fine with me," Arte said.

"And me," Jim agreed. "Let's go back to the golf club and we'll discuss it with them."

"Maybe we could drop by Snakes' place on our way back?" Coley suggested. "He might already have other plans for tonight."

"Good thinking," Arte said. "We'll try to catch him first." He glanced to Jim. "Oh, James, are we going to tell him and the others our concerns about the chicken?"

"Definitely, Arte," Jim said. "They should all be prepared in case Count Manzeppi makes his move."

They reached the gate and the guard waved them through. Waving back with a smile, Arte then steered the car in the direction of the Gardena subdivision.

"I don't think Lafe would like that," Coley frowned. "He's still having a struggle adapting to this new time."

"He's doing a lot better than he was, though," Arte said. "But strictly speaking, I don't think any of us would like Count Manzeppi's plans."

"And he's definitely going to be enacting them at some point," Jim said. "It may be to our advantage that he wants this movie to finish filming before he steals the chicken." Frowning, he paused and added, "On the other hand, he probably plans to test it either tonight or tomorrow night instead of waiting for the next full moon."

"And we'll have to beat him to the punch," Arte finished grimly.

Jim nodded. "So watch for any point when we might be able to get the chicken and make the test ourselves . . . if they even bring it out tonight. It sounds like the scenes will all take place before the Count commissions Mr. Sharff to put the stone inside the chicken."

"So they'll be using a prop stone that definitely isn't the real thing," Arte nodded. "Well, we'll have to see how it goes."

The drive was smooth and soon they were at Snakes Tolliver's apartment house in Gardena. Arte pulled up in front and he and the others got out, Coley leading the way inside. He quickly jogged up the stairs and to Snakes' door, with Jim and Arte trailing behind him as he knocked.

Snakes opened the door after a moment. "Hey, Coley. What is it?" he asked in surprise. Coley wasn't a frequent visitor; usually Snakes was the one visiting. After their friendship had been fully cemented during the zeppelin case, however, Coley had started to come around more, something Snakes greatly appreciated.

"Well, I wanted to invite you to come watch something tonight," Coley said, "but it'll take some explaining. West and Gordon are here too."

Snakes looked over Coley's shoulder to where the Secret Service agents had stopped and stood. "Come on in then," he said, opening the door more.

The trio entered and went over to the blue couch Snakes was indicating in the living room. Snakes' apartment was small, especially compared to the mansions he had inhabited during his days as a crime boss in the 19th Century. But he said it suited him in his new lifestyle, since he was just a gambler and not anyone with enough money or power to afford a mansion now. Maybe he'd get a house sometime, he mused, but this was enough for now.

Snakes sat on a chair facing the couch, listening while Coley, Jim, and Arte explained the details of what had been happening that day and concluding with the invitation to come watch the filming that night.

"It sounds interesting," Snakes admitted slowly, rubbing his knee. "I heard about the movie in the news and I wondered if you'd be checking it out. But I had no idea this Count Manzeppi character was involved. It sounds like that could get dangerous."

"Yeah, probably," Coley admitted. "But probably not yet."

"It's fine if you don't feel like coming, Snakes," Arte interjected. "We know you try to avoid danger whenever possible."

"That's true, I still want to," Snakes said. "But I don't want to leave my friends high and dry, either. And if there's no immediate danger, watching the filming does sound kind of fun."

"So you'll come then?" Coley asked.

"Yeah, I'll come," Snakes agreed.

"We can either pick you up on our way there or you could come with us now and have dinner at Oak Bridge," Jim said.

"Dinner at Oak Bridge beats grabbing dinner from a fast-food place and eating all alone," Snakes said. "I'll come with you now." He got up from the chair.

Coley looked pleased. "Good deal."

Jim and Arte were also pleased. Snakes had come a long way from the terrified, broken man Little Pinto had turned him into after three years of steady torture. He had selfishly sought to protect his life no matter who got hurt, until he had found his honor again. Now, even though he still feared death, he could be counted on to come through in a tight spot.

Coley, too, had really managed to turn over a new leaf after living the life of an outlaw. Unlike Lafe, he had become so fed-up with running that he had wanted to make the change. But even in Lafe's case, he would try to stay on the straight and narrow path because he wanted to stay with Coley.

With Count Manzeppi involved, Jim really wouldn't be surprised if all of his and Arte's recent friends would end up mixed up in the case. He would do what he could to ensure they wouldn't have to be, but sometimes things just had a way of going exactly how they didn't want them to go.

xxxx

Count Manzeppi entered his trailer with a sweep of his long cloak. "Luther!" he called. "Have you returned yet from your assignment?"

"Yeah, Boss." Luther stepped out of the shadows, clad in his favorite leather jacket and playing with his favorite combination toy and weapon.

Pleased, Manzeppi pulled up two chairs and sat down, lacing his fingers. "And what was the result?"

"West and Gordon are going around talking to their friends here," Luther said. "They're just leaving Snakes Tolliver's apartment. He's going with them and Coley Rodman, probably back to the Oak Bridge Golf Club."

"Excellent." Manzeppi's eyes glittered. With a wave of his hand, a file folder appeared in it. He opened it, perusing the information inside. "Over the last several weeks we have made an exhaustive study of everyone who has befriended Mr. West and Mr. Gordon in this new time period. And what is the conclusion we have reached?"

Luther tossed the ball into the air and caught it in its cup. "The best choices are probably either Ray Norman, who owns the golf club, or Snakes Tolliver."

Manzeppi nodded, making a note in the folder with a pen that he materialized out of thin air. "Dear Snakes, who has such a long history of cowardice and fear of pain. Miss Posey and Little Pinto certainly brought those feelings out all the more."

"Yeah, but he acts like he's over it now," Luther frowned in confusion.

"Does anyone really ever get over such intense trauma?" Manzeppi answered in a patronizing tone. He stood, crossing the room to a closed and locked cupboard. "Could anyone really forget three years of living among the dead, all because of one foolish act and one very permanent retaliation?" He produced a key and inserted it into the lock. When it clicked open, he removed it and started to open the cupboard doors.

Luther watched uneasily. "What are you gonna do, Boss?"

"When the time is right, I plan to show him that nightmares can always be revisited." Manzeppi stood by the open doors and smiled. "Do you think he will agree to help us if we turn our new weapon against him?"

Luther, staring at what was inside the cupboard, swallowed hard. "I think almost anybody would agree to help us if you turned _that_ loose on them," he exclaimed. "But can we really trust that it won't turn against _us?_ "

"Oh, come now, Luther. My rebuilt and improved Deadeye robot is programmed to always obey me and only me. There is no danger for us, only for our enemies. As that great historian Herodotus once said . . ."

Luther tuned out Manzeppi's recitation, focusing instead on the life-sized machine in the cupboard. Deadeye was turned off right now, but he looked plenty dangerous as it was. Manzeppi had spent many long nights carefully reconstructing the robotic member of the now-defunct Eccentrics. After hearing stories of Deadeye's complete, unapologetic cruelty and his tendency to dispatch comrades who had lost the Count's favor, Luther was not looking forward to seeing the thing in action. Maybe someday Manzeppi would decide to have Deadeye dispatch _him._

"What exactly is it you want Snakes to do for us, Boss?" he asked when Manzeppi had finished his commentary.

Manzeppi smiled a deadly smile. "When our Deadeye has had a great deal of fun with him, I will offer him a way out of the pain and out of the threat of a second, more permanent death. To escape that, dear Snakes would do anything, including to kill Mr. West and Mr. Gordon for us."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Dinner had already started when the group arrived back at the Oak Bridge Golf Club. They, Ray, and Lafe were soon seated at Ray's favorite table at the back of the dining room to converse. Next to theirs, Mrs. Featherstone had claimed her usual table with Jane sitting next to her. The woman talked to and cooed at her cat while Jim and the others explained the events of the afternoon to a stunned Ray and Lafe.

"So this Count Manzeppi is just waiting for a chance to get back the philosopher's stone and start turning everything into gold?" Ray exclaimed in alarm.

"Actually, we don't know exactly what he wants to do when he gets hold of it," Jim deadpanned, "but that would be a reasonable guess."

"And of course he'll want to get us out of the way, since he knows we won't allow him to gain so much more power if we can help it," Arte said.

Lafe looked uneasy. "What about anyone who associates with you?"

"I don't know," Jim admitted. "If he thinks anyone is a threat, he won't let them live." Sometimes the Count's words about a "small ocean of blood" during his search for the philosopher's stone still came back to haunt Jim. He wondered how many innocent people had died so the Count could have solid gold keys and bolts.

"Don't you think you should warn the director?" Ray asked in concern.

"Yes, we do," Arte nodded. "But first we'd like to find out if the prop they're using is really the genuine article. We're going to try to do that tonight during the filming."

"We wondered if you'd want to come," said Jim. "It's true that there will probably be danger from the Count in the future, but tonight will likely be safe."

"I'd like to see them filming," Ray said almost instantly. "I was curious about that film from the moment I heard about it coming out."

Lafe still looked more hesitant, but said, "I guess it would probably be pretty interesting. You're going, aren't you, Coley?"

"Yeah," Coley replied.

"Then I'll go," Lafe said.

"Great," said Coley, looking pleased.

xxxx

Majestic Studios was still bustling when the group pulled in, despite the fact that it was now dark. Many of the soundstages were lit up and outside, casts and crew were hurrying about, traveling to their sets or other buildings.

After collecting their passes at the main gate, Jim led the way back to Stage 13. Gary was waiting by the door, two scripts in hand. "Oh, here you are," he said in relief. "And you've brought all of Dr. Loveless's former hostages! Wonderful!"

"Um, yes," Ray said slowly, just as confused by the enthusiasm as Coley had been.

"This is the director, Gary Lindsey," Jim introduced.

An entire round of introductions was made. Gary was also excited to meet Snakes, who had been involved in the rescue of the hostages despite not being one himself.

"You're the one who was brought back from the dead, aren't you?" he exclaimed.

Snakes went red. "Uh . . . yeah, that happened to me," he said quietly, uncomfortable. "But it happened to Ray too. And unlike with him, what happened to me is not supposed to be common knowledge."

"It's not," Gary assured him. "I just researched you and found out about the rumors that started going around about you in your time."

" _This_ is my time now," Snakes insisted.

"Of course. I'm sorry." Gary looked from Snakes to Coley to Lafe. "It's amazing, how well you've all adjusted to living in this modern age."

"Well, I haven't adjusted as well as the others," Lafe said. "I'm just along for the ride."

Gary nodded. "Maybe with more time."

He looked back to Snakes. "I should make a film about your life sometime," he said enthusiastically. "It would be a big hit for sure!"

"Nobody'd believe it," Snakes said gruffly. "Anyway, I'd rather not see my whole life getting broadcast to the whole wide world. Wait till I'm dead for real before you do something like that."

"Then it would have to be my son who'd make it," Gary said regretfully. "But naturally I'll respect your wishes."

Jim decided it was time for a change of subject. "I see you've brought the scripts," he noted.

"Oh! Yes." Gary looked down at the blue-covered paper. "I brought them so you can look the early scenes over before we start filming."

Jim accepted his and started skimming through it. Arte took the other, reading more carefully. The others looked over their shoulders.

"Everything looks fine as far as I'm concerned," Jim said after a moment. "As I said, we only know a few details about the Count's search for the philosopher's stone."

Arte nodded. "You've definitely fleshed it out." He sounded slightly troubled.

"Oh, is something wrong?" Gary asked.

"No," Arte quickly replied. "It's just disturbing to think that it might have really happened this way." He closed the script. "So many people dead. . . ."

"Well, that's certainly what the Count alluded to in the television episode," Gary said. "We're just expanding on that."

"Where are you going to be filming?" Jim asked.

"Partially on a backlot," Gary admitted. "We won't be filming anything in Europe, but we'll turn both the lot and our soundstages into a clever reproduction of it. You're going to see some movie magic."

"How lovely," Arte smiled. He scratched his temple as he continued, "Forgive me, Mr. Lindsey, but you mentioned location shooting. I know my knowledge of the motion picture business is sketchy at best, but I was under the impression that location shooting meant filming away from the studio?"

"That's right, Mr. Gordon," Gary agreed. "While we're mainly shooting some of the early scenes tonight, as I said, we also want to film the rooftop climax on this perfect full moon night. We'll be doing that at the building we chose for all exterior shots of the toy store."

Jim and Arte exchanged a worried look. "So then you _will_ be using the prop chicken tonight," Arte realized.

"Yes, as well as a gold-leaf version," Gary said. "This being the modern age, we want to actually show Gerda turning to gold. And she'll be in a far more dramatic position than on the television episode. Think Han Solo in carbonite. Err, if you've seen _The Empire Strikes Back_ , that is."

"We have, actually," said Jim.

"How will you be accomplishing her transformation?" Arte asked, definitely interested.

"Mostly practical effects, we hope," Gary said. "But the finishing touches will probably have to be CGI. Anyway, you'll see it all tonight." His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Jim and Arte looked at each other again. They had hoped to not bring the director in on things just yet, but now that they were armed with this information, it seemed that there was no choice.

"Uh, Mr. Lindsey . . ." Arte hesitated. "We don't want to alarm you, but since you can't trace your prop chicken's origins prior to the television episode, there is the slightest chance that it could be the genuine article. In which case, having it present under a full moon could be disastrous."

Gary stared at him for a long moment. "Why, Mr. Gordon, isn't that jumping to a gigantic conclusion?" he finally exclaimed, his voice tinged with incredulity.

"Not really." Jim stepped forward. "We have our reasons for believing it might be real. If it isn't, then it's someone besides us who's jumping to gigantic conclusions."

"Well." Now Gary actually looked somewhat shaken. "Then what do you think we should do?"

"We want permission to test it under the full moon and see what happens," Jim said. "If it's real, then you'll need to use one of the decoys for all outside shots at night."

"At least for the next several days," Arte added.

"Of-of course." Gary hurried past them. "It's still in the prop room. I'll sign it out right now and bring it to you."

"In a box, please, Mr. Lindsey," Arte encouraged. "It mustn't be exposed to the moonlight while you're holding it."

"Why don't we all just go with him and we'll make the test behind the prop room?" Jim suggested.

"Oh. Oh yes, that's a good idea." Gary waved a hand at them. "Come on then, gentlemen."

Everyone followed.

"So where's Cantrell tonight?" Coley grunted. "Not showing up until it's time for the rooftop scene?"

"Exactly," Gary nodded. "He just isn't interested in a scene if he's not in it."

"Just as well," Coley shrugged. Glancing to Ray, he said, "He's pretty much everything you said he was, and that's just scratching the surface."

Ray winced. "I'm not surprised, but I was hoping what I'd heard wasn't true."

"It was," Jim said flatly.

They reached the prop room and Gary put in his request from the prop man, who blinked at him in surprise. "You're requisitioning the chicken now, Mr. Lindsey? It wasn't supposed to be needed until we're packing up for Sharff's."

"I need it now," Gary insisted. "Something's come up and we may need to take a decoy to Sharff's."

That brought another surprised look. "Is someone trying to steal it because it's a piece of classic television memorabilia?!"

"We'll talk about it later," Gary said. "We're wasting time here. May I have the chicken? Please?"

"Alright, Mr. Lindsey." Shaking his head, the prop man turned away and shuffled deep into the room. After a moment he came back with a small wooden box. "Here it is."

"This is the original, of course?" Gary demanded.

"That's what you asked for," the prop man shrugged.

"Thank you," Gary sighed in relief. "I'll bring it back in a few minutes."

While the prop man gaped after them, Gary led the group to the back of the building and outside. "Alright," he said. "We've got a perfect view of the moon from right here. Now what?"

"Now we need to select something that we can place next to the chicken," Arte said.

Snakes dug in his pocket. "Here's a quarter," he offered.

Arte took it and set it on a wooden bench. Then, carefully, he took the box from Gary and slowly opened it before backing away. "I wonder how long we have to wait," he frowned.

"Judging by what happened to Gerda, it shouldn't be long," Jim pointed out.

It wasn't. Within moments, the quarter changed before their eyes into pure gold. So did the bench.

Gary swore in horrified, awed disbelief. So did Coley. Everyone else just stared.

"It could be a trick, but that actually looks genuine," Coley said at last.

"So now what do we do?" Lafe wondered.

Arte quickly covered the chicken and handed the box back to Gary. "Now we make sure that Count Manzeppi doesn't get his greedy hands on it," he said.

Gary accepted the box in a complete daze, but Arte's words snapped him out of it. "Count Manzeppi?!" he gasped.

Jim nodded. "Mr. Robespierre is the real Count Manzeppi," he said.

Gary looked to him with a jerk. "Are you sure?! I know there's a strong resemblance, but . . ."

"It's him," Jim interrupted. "He made that clear to me. He thinks the chicken is the one he's been looking for and he signed on to this motion picture to get it."

"Not to mention to immortalize himself on the silver screen," Arte added.

"Oh. . . ." Gary slumped back. "Suddenly everything is so complicated."

"Just make sure it's one of the decoy chickens on the roof tonight," Jim advised. "We'll decide what to do about the real one."

Arte nodded. "If Count Manzeppi makes his test tonight, as he expressed to us that he wants to do, and nothing happens, hopefully he'll believe that it really is an innocent little prop and nothing more."

"Unless he figures out what we're thinking and outsmarts us," Jim pointed out.

"And knowing Count Manzeppi, that's probably exactly what he'll do," Arte moaned.

Snakes actually looked scared now. "So what are you going to do?!"

"We'll have to outsmart him," Jim grunted.

"All of you should be safe," Arte said to Snakes and the rest. "He's after the chicken, not you."

"Maybe so, but we're not going to run and hide from this," Coley insisted. "Or at least I'm not. I can't speak for anyone else."

"I won't either," Ray said.

"This is all very nice, but really, this isn't your fight," Arte said. "We invited you just to see what it's like when a motion picture is filmed, not to get involved in something dangerous."

"After everything we've been through, we're friends," Coley pointed out. "And in any case, this problem is something that'll probably affect all of us. If some loony magician comes along and tries to turn everything into gold, how can it _not_ affect us?"

"Why can't we beat him to it?!" Lafe suddenly reached out and snatched Snakes' gold quarter off the bench. "I mean, just look at this, Coley! Just think what we could do if we could turn anything we wanted into gold!"

"You know people in America aren't even allowed to own much gold, right?" Coley grunted.

"But that's coins, isn't it?" Lafe countered. "Or bars or something. Anyway, we wouldn't be owning the stuff! We'd turn anything we wanted into gold and then sell it to whoever wanted to own it! Then we'd get rich with the kind of money we _are_ allowed to have!"

"We'd probably have to operate on the black market," Coley said.

"Would that really be so bad?" Lafe waved the coin in Coley's face again. "Coley, you would have been all over this once upon a time!"

"Would I?" Coley finally took the coin from Lafe and turned it over between his fingers. " _Once upon a time_ is a good way to describe this, because it sounds like a fairy tale. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it. I still wonder if I believe it. Maybe it's only gold-plated or maybe the effect's just temporary."

"We confiscated Count Manzeppi's golden objects," Jim said. "They've never turned back."

"And I analyzed them and found that they were solid gold through and through," Arte added. "I'm afraid this fairy tale really is true."

"So what have we got to lose?!" Lafe exclaimed. "Coley, come on! To not take advantage of a situation like this is crazy!"

"To get mixed up with a nutcase like Count Manzeppi is crazy," Coley retorted.

"Okay, you're probably right. But what if that wasn't an issue?" Lafe almost looked pleading.

"I still wouldn't know what to say," Coley answered. "The philosopher's stone was always some myth cooked up by alchemists. They were basically mad scientists in the Middle Ages, you know. And you know how both Ray and me feel about mad scientists." He pointed at the box. "The thing inside that chicken must've been created by one of them. Who knows what's in it besides being able to turn stuff into gold?"

"You can't tell me you're not interested at all," Lafe objected.

"You're right, I can't," Coley admitted. "Who wouldn't be interested in gold, at least a little bit?"

"And you always considered the stuff we were doing a business," Lafe persisted. "This would be a business too."

"And I wonder just how long it'd be before one or both of us caught gold fever," Coley grunted.

"There'd be plenty for both of us!" Lafe shot back.

"Yeah, and we'd probably end up not caring about anything besides the gold," Coley said.

"Can I say something here?" Ray suddenly interrupted. "I don't think it's wise to talk about this. I know it's exciting, but something like this that's too good to be true always comes with a price."

"You watch too much of that weird fairy tale show," Lafe said, rolling his eyes.

"He has a point," Jim flatly interrupted. "This isn't something to be toyed with."

Arte nodded. "Look what Count Manzeppi's greed cost so many innocent people. All those lives lost, and for what?"

Lafe folded his arms. "I'd never go around like that! Even when Coley and me were working with Dr. Kirby, I was always trying to keep Coley grounded!"

"Yeah, but you don't sound very grounded now," Coley said. "You never have been happy trying to lead an honest life, Lafe. I've seen it. Ray's seen it. I always hoped you'd wise up and realize that it'd be better to put that behind you, but you never have. The first chance you've got, you're thinking of falling back on that again. You're talking about making illegal gold and working the black market. I don't want that life now. I'm sick of being on the run, with the threat of prison or execution hanging over my head. I just want to settle down and be free."

"But what kind of future is there in being a security guard?!" Lafe cried. "We could be doing so much more!"

". . . I think I want my quarter back now." Snakes stepped between them, reaching to pluck the coin out of Coley's gloved hand.

Coley let it go. "Oh, this is ridiculous," he growled. "We're standing on the backlot of a movie studio arguing about making gold like a factory."

Gary, who had simply watched the entire argument in open-mouthed shock, finally shook his head and turned to go back inside. "I should get the chicken back under lock and key."

"You certainly should, Mr. Lindsey," Arte agreed. "It's probably time to start filming, isn't it?"

"Just about." Gary opened the back door of the building. "I'll just be a minute."

An uneasy silence fell over the group as they followed him in and started walking back up the corridor. Jim and Arte looked to each other in concern. They hadn't expected this twist at all. And although they didn't really think Lafe would try to go into business for himself with the chicken, they couldn't help but wonder. Judging from everyone else's expressions, they were wondering too.

A horrible crash and a scream from the front of the building brought everyone's attention up. Without a word, Jim ran ahead of the others and over to the prop room, just in time to be greeted by a most familiar and unwelcome sneering face departing it.

"Deadeye," he said in disbelief.

Count Manzeppi's rebuilt android was pointing his gun directly at him. "Fall down, Mr. West," he mocked. "You're dead."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Before Deadeye could fire, and before Jim could try to disarm him, a familiar figure in a cape and top hat also emerged from the shadows and smiled his knowing smile. "Now, now, Deadeye, Mr. West. We can all have a civilized little reunion, can't we?"

Deadeye's lip curled. He drew his gun back, but did not replace it in its holster.

Jim likewise did not come off his guard. "What is this, Count?" he demanded. "You were planning to make a quiet, secretive test with the chicken."

"Yes, I was, wasn't I. But that was before you and Mr. Gordon decided to make your test of it tonight!" Count Manzeppi affixed him with a falsely friendly look. "And you discovered it truly is my long-lost property."

"Who it belongs to is a matter of debate," Jim said coolly. He could hear the others running over to him now, but he didn't dare take his attention away from his enemies to turn and look.

Manzeppi treated their arrival with complete calmness. "Naturally I realized I needed to take possession of the little bird before you locked it away in the vault. Oh, good evening, Mr. Gordon. Mr. Norman, Mr. Rodman. Mr. Lindsey, Mr. Morgan, and oh yes, we can't forget Mr. Tolliver." He smiled at the lot of them.

"Count." Arte nodded to him and then froze, staring at his companion. "Deadeye?!"

"It seems the good Count has been busy with more than just advancing his career and searching for the philosopher's stone," Jim intoned.

"Yes, I've spent a great deal of my free time rebuilding dear Deadeye here," Manzeppi said with pride. "I've made him better than he was before. Not to mention stronger and faster."

"This guy is a machine?!" Coley said in disbelief.

Deadeye leered at him.

"Not just any machine, Mr. Rodman," Manzeppi insisted. "The world's first android! I constructed him back in our time, as Mr. West no doubt remembers very well." He flung his cape back from his shoulders. "And another part of what makes Deadeye so fascinating is that he thinks for himself; he doesn't merely follow my orders. He is, for all accounts and purposes, a human. Only better."

"I guess you could say that," Jim acknowledged. "If by 'better' you mean someone who shoots down the defenseless without batting an eye or feeling any twinge of conscience."

Deadeye glowered at him. "You're not going to make me snap this time, Mr. West."

"This version of Deadeye is even polite," Manzeppi gushed.

Snakes slowly backed up, not wanting Deadeye to catch sight of him. He slipped behind first Coley and then Ray, both of whom were far too occupied with the current situation to pay him any heed.

"But enough chit-chat!" Manzeppi suddenly boomed, freezing Snakes in his tracks. "It's time we claimed the prize for which we came to this new age."

"Oh no!" Gary cried, finally finding his voice. "Mr. Robespierre . . . Count Manzeppi . . . whatever your name is, you signed a contract with Majestic Studios to make this motion picture! You can't steal the key prop, the one that the entire film is based around!"

"Can't I?" Manzeppi purred with a faux smile. "My good sir, I have brought my entire entourage to ensure that I can."

With a wave of his hand, three lights came on overhead, shining on the familiar forms of Luther, Dodo, and Villar, all grinning eerily as they advanced on the group from various angles.

Jim did not look ruffled. "Nice try, Count, but we're evenly matched. You and your group number five, and we have at least five who can take you on. Seven altogether, if the other two join in."

"Count me out!" Gary quavered. "I never had any luck beating bullies on the playground. I'm into making movies, not fighting magicians and robots!"

"My congratulations, Mr. Lindsey, for knowing when you are beaten," said Manzeppi. "Anyone else? Mr. Tolliver, perhaps?"

Snakes looked trapped at being put on the spot. "I'm not going to turn and run," he said at last.

"Ah, so you have six then, Mr. West," Manzeppi remarked. "But unfortunately for Mr. Lindsey, he is the one holding the chicken, so we must go after him."

Now it was Gary who looked trapped. "Mr. West . . ." He clutched the box, his eyes wide with terror. "What do I do?"

Before Jim could answer, the door suddenly flung open and banged against the wall. "What's going on in here?" came Mitch's impatient, confused voice. "I thought you guys were supposed to be filming outside right now."

"Mitch!" Gary exclaimed, torn between worry and relief. "Is anyone else with you?"

"Yeah! The whole crew! Not to mention all the actors in the next scene except for Mr. Robespierre." Mitch looked to Manzeppi. "You were supposed to be on half an hour ago. The longer it takes to film your scenes, the longer it'll be before I'm on again!"

Manzeppi's face twisted in his aggravation. "I will be right out, Mr. Cantrell," he said through gritted teeth. In a lower voice he said to Jim and the others, "You may have been saved for now, but don't think it will last. We know where you're placing the chicken for safe-keeping. We can easily retrieve it any time tonight." With that he turned and stocked towards the door. Behind him, Villar threw a smokebomb that left everyone coughing while he and the rest of Manzeppi's thugs faded into the shadows.

"I'd never thought I'd be grateful to Mitch Cantrell," Arte gasped, "but he sure showed up at the right time!"

"What are we going to do about the chicken, Mr. West?!" Gary choked. "They really will be back for it!"

"Obviously we can't put it in the vault," Jim frowned. "But we also can't discuss what we're going to do with it in here. One or more of them could still be listening." As the smoke cleared, he took a small notepad out of his jacket pocket, scribbled something on it, and showed it to Gary.

 _Put a decoy in the vault as well as in front of the camera._

 _Give the real chicken to me or Arte._

Gary's eyes widened, but he nodded. Carefully, quietly, he slipped his hand under the box's cover and removed the chicken, which Jim took and wrapped in a handkerchief. He didn't think anything would turn to gold as long as the chicken wasn't visible to the moon, but just in case, he wanted to make sure that it was the handkerchief that would change and not his clothes or him.

"I need to get outside so we can start filming," Gary said loudly. "But first I'm going to put this in the vault." He hurried off again with the box.

"Coming to think of it, Jim, we need to make sure the prop man isn't hurt," Arte realized in concern.

"Well, we didn't hear any gunshots, so hopefully Deadeye only knocked him out," Jim replied.

The group hastened to the front of the building, where Gary had paused to speak with the dazed and shaken prop man. He didn't seem hurt, but his entire desk was upsidedown.

Arte gave a low whistle. "It looks like Deadeye is just as deadly as before. If not worse."

"I'm betting on worse," Jim said.

Further conversation was staved off until a fake chicken had been locked in the vault and everyone was outside again.

Gary glanced up nervously at the moon. "I have to get on with filming," he said. "You're still welcome to watch, if you want. Although now I imagine it won't be as palatable as it would have been before."

"Let's watch," Jim said calmly. "It's better to keep our enemies in sight when we can. The Count clearly won't do anything that will ruin his big chance to be a star. Not yet, at least."

"Yeah, and what about when he realizes the real chicken isn't in the vault?" Lafe hissed.

"Then he'll probably come looking for us," Jim grunted. "Mr. Norman." He looked to Ray. "Can you and Rodman help us set a trap back at Oak Bridge?"

Ray and Coley exchanged a look. "We'll be glad to, Mr. West," Ray declared.

Coley nodded. "We're not going to be outsmarted by that show-off magician and his tin man."

Lafe frowned, looking longingly to the spot in Jim's jacket where he had placed the chicken. "It's too bad we can't beat back that guy _and_ keep the chicken for us," he said under his breath. But he sighed to himself. Coley was probably right. Just like with Dr. Kirby's paralyzing drug, when something seemed too good to be all that, it naturally was. Lafe had been excited to see Snakes' coin and the bench turn to gold, but it was time to come back to Earth and be the voice of reason that he had been before.

Still, though, that didn't mean he couldn't wish things could be different. It _was_ hard to adjust to being one of the good guys, just as everybody knew he felt. Some gold could sure help him get started on a more lucrative path in life.

xxxx

Snakes was sleepy as he headed inside his apartment complex and up the stairs to his apartment late that night. It had taken so long to film the Count's scenes that the moon had moved too far across the sky and everyone had mutually determined that the rooftop shoot would have to wait until the next night.

Manzeppi had strategically disappeared as soon as the decision was reached. But despite an attempt to watch the prop room, no one had appeared to collect the fake chicken. Jim and Arte had decided to go back to Oak Bridge to wait for Manzeppi to come for them there. Snakes had just wanted to get home.

Watching the movie being filmed had been interesting, he had to admit. But thinking about Manzeppi's quest for the philosopher's stone and how the movie was more fact than fiction creeped him out. He didn't want to leave the others high and dry, but on the other hand, he had never been much of a fighter. He would rather just leave that to the experts while he did what he did best and strategized from the shadows.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, flipping on the light at the same moment. But then he could only stop and stare in horror. "Y-You!" he stammered. The key dropped from his hand and bounced off the door before landing in the soft carpet.

Deadeye leered at him from the center of the room. "The Count wants to see you, Mr. Tolliver."

"He must've made a mistake," Snakes retorted. His hands and knees shaking, he bent down to look for the fallen key. "I'm not mixed up in this. I mean, not like he's thinking. I . . ."

"You are a tremendous coward, of course," came Count Manzeppi's smooth, booming voice.

Snakes straightened, his gun tightly gripped in his left hand. "You don't know anything about me," he snapped.

Manzeppi merely smiled and nodded in approval. "Ah, searching for your key was only a bit of play-acting," he observed. "Yes, naturally you try to put on an air of being brave. But you know that deep down, there is still something you fear."

Deadeye's lips widened in an evil smirk. "Death."

Villar stepped out from behind the door, his ever-present puppet Julio in hand. "And we are going to help you on your way to discovering just how afraid of it you are!" he sneered in Julio's voice.

Snakes clutched the gun tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. "What is this?!"

"I have been studying you for weeks, Mr. Tolliver. Nay, months!" Manzeppi drew closer to him, unafraid of the gun he held. "I've studied all of Mr. West's and Mr. Gordon's friends in this new time. And I have come to the undeniable conclusion that you are the weakest link."

Snakes flinched. Even if it were true, it was not a pleasing thing to be told. "So?"

"So I believe that I can get what I want not by going directly to my dear friends, but by going through you." Manzeppi smiled down at the shocked man. "You, Mr. Tolliver, are the key to everything."

Deadeye grinned and fired.

Horrified, Snakes ducked and fired right back. The gun flew out of Deadeye's hand.

A second gun appeared in Deadeye's other hand. He fired again while Snakes was diving to the floor.

This time the projectile found its mark. Snakes gasped and choked, reaching to where a strange dart had penetrated his skin between his shoulder and his neck.

"Deadeye isn't shooting to kill yet, Mr. Tolliver," Manzeppi said with a patronizing smile. He bent down to look into Snakes' terrified but clouding eyes. "We need you alive right now. But before we're through, you will be ready to do anything to stay alive. _Anything._ "

Snakes stared at him for what seemed a long, drawn-out moment. Then he collapsed the rest of the way to the floor.

Manzeppi straightened. "Take him," he ordered.

Luther and Dodo, emerging from the shadows of the room, went over and lifted the limp body. With Villar bringing up the rear, the villains departed with their catch.

xxxx

Jim had settled in a chair at the Oak Bridge Golf Club's recreation room. Although he seemed perfectly relaxed and calm, he was really fully on alert. Arte, who was pacing up a storm, could not follow Jim's relaxed example.

"Arte, why don't you settle down?" Jim asked at last. "Count Manzeppi will come when he comes. It might not even be tonight."

"Yeah," Coley grunted from where he was leaning against the wall with crossed arms. "You'll probably have to go to bed and let us security guards handle it."

"Count Manzeppi would make sure you wouldn't have a way to contact us," Arte protested. "You couldn't take him on all by yourselves!"

Jim nodded. "At least one of us will have to stand guard with you all night."

Coley shrugged. "Whatever."

Arte stopped pacing and looked to him. "Count Manzeppi is no pushover," he warned. "And his magician's tricks aren't always sleight of hand!"

"What are they then?" Coley retorted. "Black magic?"

Arte opened his mouth, wasn't sure how to answer, and closed it again. "I don't know," he admitted helplessly, throwing up his hands.

"Hey, Coley!"

Everyone turned with a start as Lafe ran into the room, his eyes wide and his overall expression shaken.

"What is it, Lafe?" Coley frowned, pushing away from the wall.

"I don't know! It's like somebody hacked into the security system!" Lafe exclaimed. "The monitor went dark and words started typing out on it!"

"The Count," Jim realized. He bolted out of the chair and ran past Lafe into the hall. Everyone else followed.

By the time Jim reached the security room, the entire message had been received. He stood, staring at it, as the others ran up behind him.

"What is it, Jim?!" Arte demanded.

Jim stepped aside so everyone could see.

 _Good evening, Mr. West! I know you were expecting me to discover_

 _your little subterfuge and walk into your neat little trap at Mr. Norman's_

 _golf club, but I decided instead to pull a little trick of my own. Behold!_

A second monitor switched from what it was supposed to show and instead depicted a sneering Deadeye standing over a limp Snakes on a metal slab in an unidentifiable location.

"Oh no," Arte gasped.

Coley swore under his breath.

A third monitor went dark and a second message began typing.

 _Mr. Tolliver is quite alive . . . for now. Even though he is an incorrigible coward,_

 _he's been useful to you during a couple of your misadventures. I'm sure you wouldn't_

 _want Deadeye to have his fun with him. I would be more than willing to trade his_

 _miserable life for that priceless prize which I know you now hold. There is no need_

 _to reply; I will contact you tomorrow with further instructions._

 _Need I sign this? You have received a communication from Count Carlos Mario_

 _Vincenzo Robespierre Manzeppi. Your servant, sir!_

Arte slammed his palm on the console. "Why that . . . that twisted, arrogant, mocking . . . black magic user!"

"So what are we gonna do now?" Coley frowned. "We can't let Deadeye kill Tolliver."

"And we can't give Manzeppi the real chicken," Arte moaned.

Jim frowned deeply at the three monitors, not speaking.

Arte looked to him with a start. "Jim?" He frowned too. "Surely you're not thinking . . ."

"No, I'm not. Of course we can't give the Count the real chicken," Jim agreed. "But somehow we're going to have to trick him into believing we are."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

 _"Well, fancy seeing you here in Hell too, Snakes. Of course, that's where you belong after trying to murder Lucrece."_

 _"And how many people have you killed, Pinto?!"_

 _"A lot. I would've liked to have killed you, but just standin' by watchin' Lucrece take care of it was good enough. Now I get something even better."_

 _"What's that?!"_

 _"You know how spirits can't die, right? That means the torture can go on forever. Or at least until I get bored of it, and you know, I don't think I ever will."_

Snakes flew awake, his eyes opening wide as he bolted upright on the metal slab. For a moment he was back in Justice, Nevada, as he always was upon awakening from one of his horrible dream-memories. But then Little Pinto and the hick town faded, leaving him firmly in the present. Still, when he remembered what had happened right before he had passed out, he had to wonder if the present was much better.

He breathed heavily as he looked around the room. Aside from the spotlight hanging eerily over the slab, the place was in darkness. He couldn't even tell if anyone else was there. "Hello?" he called, his voice wary.

An unearthly giggle answered him. "You look scared," said Villar through his puppet Julio. A second spotlight came on above them. "He should be scared, shouldn't he?"

Villar smirked. "Very scared," he "answered" in his normal voice.

"Yeah, the Count's gonna make mincemeat out of him," Julio celebrated.

Snakes clenched his fists on the slab. "Look, what's your purpose here anyway?" he snapped. "I don't see how you serve any. It's not like you can fight holding that creepy thing. All you do is play-act."

"Ah, but on that you are wrong, Mr. Tolliver." A third spotlight shone as Count Manzeppi emerged from the darkness and stepped over to the slab. "Villar and Julio provide a very important part of the plan. They do fight, just not in a conventional way. You see, they tend to . . . psyche people out, to coin a modern phrase."

"I can see why," Snakes said bitterly. He turned, swinging his legs over the edge of the slab. "Now, what am I doing here?"

"Why, it's just as we told you," Manzeppi said smoothly. "You're here because you fear death. We can use that fear to twist and mold you into what we want of you."

"What do you want of me?" Snakes spat.

"All in good time." Manzeppi started to turn away.

Snakes took that moment for a daring chance. He leaped down from the slab and ran in the opposite direction . . . until a gun barrel gleaming in the dim light brought him to an abrupt halt. Deadeye strolled out of the shadows, sneering at him.

"Why, Snakes, I do believe you've started picking up some nasty habits from Mr. West," Manzeppi mocked. "That's exactly the sort of move he would have made."

Snakes backed up, his heart pounding in his chest. Even though Deadeye was a robot, he had that same sadistic look that Pinto had always had. That was a realization that filled Snakes with absolute horror.

Sneering, Deadeye holstered his gun as he advanced. Suddenly he lashed out, grabbing hold of Snakes' arm and pulling the smaller man towards him in a painful manner.

Snakes cried out, desperately flailing as he tried in vain to get away. A well-placed kick got Deadeye in the shin, but unlike a human, he did not react. An attempt to scratch at his face only resulted in Snakes' other wrist being grabbed as well.

"You are a fighter, aren't you?" Manzeppi mused. "I suppose that's to be expected, considering how you tried to gun Miss Posey down as your dying act. But I can assure you, my dear boy, that you will have as little success with Deadeye as you did with your former employer. Perhaps even less."

Deadeye flung Snakes away from him, sending him crashing to the floor. Before he could recover enough to get up, Deadeye was upon him once again, placing a heavy foot on his chest. Snakes gasped, clawing at it.

Manzeppi cringed. "Oh, do be careful, Deadeye. We can't afford to crush him."

Obediently, yet reluctantly, Deadeye stepped back.

"You don't wanna crush me, but you wanna make me fear death even more than I already did," Snakes snarled as he struggled to sit up. "What the heck are you going to do to me?!"

"You will be tormented quite soundly, Mr. Tolliver," Manzeppi told him. "I don't want you to have any false notions that you won't suffer. I can promise you that you will. Just not in that way."

As Deadeye loomed over him from one side while Villar and Manzeppi closed in from opposites angles, Snakes could only press himself against the table and pray for deliverance. There was no way out.

xxxx

Arte and the others were still reeling from Jim's strange statement.

"Oh, so all we have to do to save Snakes is to make the Count believe we're giving him the real chicken," Arte repeated. "Would you mind enlightening us as to how we're going to do that?"

"Especially when he'll want to run a test and prove it can turn stuff to gold?" Coley added.

"The only way it would work would be with some very clever sleight of hand," Jim said. He turned, walking away from the security console.

"We'd have to have real gold objects to put on the act with," Coley said. "And if we brought them and demonstrated without Manzeppi having any say in what objects were used, he'd probably be suspicious right from the start."

"Won't he realize you guys'd figure you couldn't turn the chicken over to him?" Lafe frowned.

"Probably," Jim acknowledged.

"But he must have some speck of doubt about that or he wouldn't be using Snakes as bait," Arte added. "He obviously thinks he has some kind of bargaining chip."

Jim started to pace. "He knows he's put us between the devil and the deep blue sea. No matter what we decide, someone's going to have to suffer. We can either save Snakes at the expense of the world . . ."

"Or we can save the world at the expense of Snakes." Arte glumly threw up his hands. "We can't do both, Jim. There's just no way."

"It isn't like you to give up, Arte," Jim remarked. "There _has_ to be a way."

Suddenly Lafe perked up. "I've got an idea," he announced. "What if we take the real chicken just so we can show him it's the real thing, and then after we have Snakes back, I lob off with it before that Count can take it?"

Everyone turned to stare at him. "Are you nuts?" Coley exclaimed. "You'd never get far and he'd catch up to you! Then you'd be in trouble instead of Tolliver!"

"Maybe I could conveniently lose it before he'd catch me," Lafe suggested. "And West and Gordon could gang up on him then."

"That's a terrible idea," Arte objected. "We'd have to rescue you as well as Snakes. And somebody might get furious enough to hurt you before we could!"

Ray looked worried. "If the Count or Deadeye or anyone else heard what you said after we made our test of the chicken tonight, they might actually buy it."

"Exactly!" Lafe nodded. "It'd look like I just wasn't able to bear the idea of all that loot going away from me."

Coley folded his arms. "And you're sure you wouldn't just be using that as an excuse to really get the loot into your hands," he said flatly.

Lafe hesitated. "Well . . . I can't deny that sounds pretty good," he said slowly. "But I swear, Coley, I really am just trying to think of a way to help Snakes now."

"And it might work," Jim finally spoke.

Arte started. "Jim, we can't put a civilian in that kind of danger! We've already got one victim to worry about without making another!"

"I know that, Arte," Jim patiently replied. "But it's not like we asked him to do it; he's volunteering. And at least we know that Lafe is skilled with a gun. He wouldn't be completely helpless against the Count and his gang." He sighed. "I don't like to do it; there are lots of risks involved and things might not go the way we're hoping they will. But unfortunately, it's the best plan we've heard."

"It's the only plan we've heard," Arte scowled.

"We need to have a plan ready so that we can move as soon as we hear from the Count," Jim said. "And in fact, we shouldn't sit around waiting to hear from him; we should start combing the city for his hideout right now. But in case we can't find him and we have to go through with the ransom meet, we need to know we'll have a fighting chance. More importantly, that _Snakes_ will have a fighting chance. The Count specifically took him. He had to have a reason."

"Tolliver was the only one he _could_ grab," Coley objected. "At least easily. He's the only one who doesn't live here."

"Ah, you don't know the Count," Arte sighed. "He wouldn't ever do anything just for that reason."

"But why Snakes?" Lafe exclaimed. "What would he think he could get with him that he couldn't get with anyone else? I mean, we'd come to rescue anybody he'd take!"

"I don't know," Jim admitted. "There may be a clue in the message he sent."

"Even if we knew why he chose Tolliver, would that really help us get him back?" Coley frowned.

"Probably not, but it would help us know what's going on in the Count's mind," Jim answered. "I'll think about it while I'm looking for his hideout." He headed for the door.

"I'm coming too, Jim," Arte called.

"And me," Coley grunted.

"Someone should stay behind and wait for another message," Jim called over his shoulder.

"I'll do that," Lafe said.

"And I'll stay with him," Ray added.

Jim paused. "Actually, maybe you should stay behind, Arte," he said. "Someone should be here who's had experience with the Count, just in case he delivers the next message in person."

Arte stopped mid-stride to the door. "You're right, Jim," he said in chagrin. "Alright, I'll stay."

"Then I'll take your place and look outside," Ray said. "That might be better anyway; I know Los Angeles better than you do."

"I can't argue with that," Arte conceded with a smile.

"And one way or another, we're going to get Tolliver back," Coley vowed.

"That's right," Jim confirmed. "We will."

xxxx

It was supposed to be a quiet street where nothing strange ever happened. That was the way Lucrece Posey wanted it during the times they lived in the modern world instead of on the other side of the portal. She and her board members could live unobtrusively in their large home and plan and plot for the day when they would bring forth their plan of consolidated crime once again.

There were other things to think about as well. She and Pinto had carried on a relationship for some time before the fateful incidents in Justice, Nevada, but in the past it had always been superficial on her part. Only after Pinto's revival and their projection into this new world had she come to accept that she loved him as he loved her. They had married on Christmas Eve and were still getting used to their deepening relationship.

That was what they were trying to do that night, as a matter of fact. But the sound of a bone-chilling scream out of the darkness was more than enough to bring their attention up.

"What was that?" Lucrece demanded. They were standing on the back porch in an embrace, looking out at the building in back of their house and pondering on the day's events.

Pinto was completely perked up, but for another reason. "That was Snakes," he mused.

"Snakes?" Lucrece quirked an eyebrow as she drew closer to him. "What would Snakes be doing here? Even though we finally pardoned him after that end of the world nonsense, he has steadfastly avoided our residence." And that was perfectly alright with her; she wanted nothing to do with the former traitor.

"I don't know why he's here, but I know that was him." Pinto jumped over the porch railing and into the grass. "I tortured him for three years. His scream is one thing I know by heart."

She watched as he slipped across the yard, over the fence, and approached the mysterious building. It had been many things during its time, from an apartment complex to a factory, but as far as they knew it had stood abandoned since their arrival. No one should be screaming in there.

She gripped the railing, observing her husband as she waited for his return. When he continued to stare in through the window, she became impatient. "What are you doing, Pinto?!" she hissed. "Come back!"

He did after a moment. "It's Snakes, alright," he reported as he leaped back over the fence into their yard. "Some guy's unnaturally twisting his arms behind his back, like I used to do." He sneered. "I wonder if he'll pull anything out of the sockets."

She frowned, not in the mood for Pinto's sadism right then. "This could be bad for us," she warned. "Is anyone else there?"

"Yeah. That guy we've seen on the news who's playing Count Manzeppi in that motion picture about West and Gordon." Pinto made his way back to the porch and leaned on the railing from the opposite side.

"Hmm. There must be more going on with that motion picture than there seemed to be," she remarked. "Someone else could hear Snakes' screams and call the police. Or Mr. West and Mr. Gordon might come here to rescue their friend. I don't want them to think we had anything to do with this."

"So what are we gonna do?" Pinto wondered.

"That's the question. We could do nothing and wait, or we could call the Oak Bridge Golf Club and let them know Snakes is here."

"Personally, I'd rather wait and see what kind of a mess Snakes got himself into now," Pinto sneered. "Maybe he's betrayed his latest contacts and he's just being justly punished for it." He sobered abruptly. "But if you think it'd be better to call West . . ."

"I don't know." She half-turned away. "It's not our affair. I'd do nothing if it wasn't that we could end up in trouble for that as well. Right now we need to stay on the right side of the law and bide our time until we're ready to try again to bring about our empire."

"Like you said, somebody else probably hears the screams," Pinto said. "They'll call the police or something."

"But only we would know to call Mr. West." Finally she turned back. "We'll wait ten minutes and see what happens. If someone still hasn't come, we'll call Mr. West."

"Okay." Pinto looked up at her. "It's your choice."

She knew he would do whatever she wanted, whether or not it was what he wanted. She gave a crisp, cool nod. "Yes, it is. And for their sakes, let's hope Snakes is strong enough to hold out a while longer."

A crash and another cry rent the night. Pinto didn't even flinch. "I don't know if he can," he said, "but I'm curious just to see."

Lucrece frowned slightly. "You still hate him, don't you?"

Pinto shrugged. "I've never forgiven him for what he tried to do to you. I probably never will." He looked up at her. "Are you saying you don't hate him?"

"I didn't _hate_ him," Lucrece answered. "At least, not until the incident on the mountain when he nearly killed you. Before that, I simply found him a pathetic worm that needed eliminating. But he actually did show some backbone when the world was ending, so apparently he didn't remain the sniveling coward he was before."

"Yeah, well, I think somebody over there is trying to turn him into one again," Pinto mused. "And I won't be surprised if it works."

xxxx

Jim ran through the streets of Los Angeles, past the other people who were up so late at night and ignoring them as they ignored him-or at least, he seemed to ignore them. In reality he was very alert, staying on guard for someone else who didn't belong in this modern scene.

He wasn't sure what to do when it came to finding the right kind of hideout. There were certain places that he knew Count Manzeppi would like above other places, but he was sure the Count knew they would be looking and not just waiting for the next communication. Unless Manzeppi wanted them to find him, he would probably choose something they wouldn't be likely to guess.

 _Did_ he want them to find him? Jim was still trying to decipher the significance of taking Snakes above Coley or Lafe or Ray. No matter how many times Jim ran the strange message through his mind, he could not find the clue as to why Snakes had been chosen. The only thing that stood out was how Manzeppi had emphasized Snakes' cowardice, but why would that be his reason for the abduction?

Jim slowed to a walk, staring off into space as he pondered. Maybe Manzeppi believed he could get Snakes to tell him where the real chicken was. But if that was his plan, why bring Jim and Arte into it at all? They wouldn't have even known Snakes was missing for hours if it hadn't been for the message. Manzeppi had _wanted_ them to know that he had Snakes. There was definitely a key piece missing, and Jim didn't like that fact one bit.

The ringing of the cellphone Ray had given him startled him out of his thoughts. Quickly he reached into his jacket pocket and took it out. He glanced briefly at the screen before he pressed the button; it was Arte calling. "Arte," he greeted. "What's going on?"

"Jim, we just had a very strange phone call." Arte sounded unsettled and disturbed.

"The Count?" Jim asked. He resumed walking as he talked.

"Actually, it was Miss Posey."

That brought Jim to a halt again. "What?" They hadn't heard from her since the wedding. He had tried to keep tabs on her and the board members, but as far as he knew they hadn't done anything odd or concerning.

"I don't know whether it's a bizarre coincidence or not, but she says that Snakes is being held in the building behind their house."

Jim's eyes narrowed. "Odd that the Count would choose that location. How does she know?"

"She and Pinto heard Snakes screaming. Deadeye's torturing him, Jim." Arte gave a heavy sigh. "The only reason she called was because she didn't want us to think they had anything to do with what's happening."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from our Miss Posey," Jim grunted. "But I'm not sure I believe they're not involved. If they're not, I think the Count wants us to think they are."

"Well, we'll find out soon enough. I'm going to round everyone up so we can get out there. Where are you, Jim? I'll pick you up."

Jim reached the corner and glanced up at the street signs. "I'm on Wilshire in downtown Los Angeles. I'm going to keep walking, Arte. I'll meet you along the way."

"Alright. But oh, Jim, are we really going to implement Lafe's plan or is this going to be an old-fashioned ambush?"

"The old-fashioned ambush sounds good to me," Jim replied. "I don't want that chicken anywhere near Count Manzeppi. There's something more going on here that we're not picking up on."

"Exactly what I was thinking. I should be there in a few minutes."

The phone call ended and Jim slipped the phone back into his pocket. As he turned the corner, his eyes darkened. Something was very wrong. The Count would have dutifully staked out the area for his hideout. Obviously being behind the Posey gang's house was not an accident.

What was his plan?


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Snakes had long ago mostly blanked out of his current situation. He was lying on the floor by now, staring ahead as Deadeye straddled him and attemped to choke him. After a moment Deadeye grew impatient and climbed off, his face a storm cloud.

"Why doesn't he do something?" he snarled. "He's not even fighting me any more. It's no fun torturing somebody who won't react. I might as well be practicing on a dummy."

"Poor Mr. Tolliver has most likely flashed back to those dreadful years when he was tortured among the dead," Count Manzeppi intoned. "He doesn't react because he remembers breaking down at long last and having no choice but to accept his fate. Unfortunately, if things proceed in that vein, we may end up killing him while we still need him."

Another figure emerged from the shadows of the large room. "If you want, Master, I will take over now."

Manzeppi glanced over. "Do you have the formula prepared, Benji?"

"Yes, Master. I have just finished it." Benji held up a small vial.

"Oh, very good," Manzeppi smiled. "But we won't bring that out just yet. We'll wait until the last bit of hope has been stripped away from our unfortunate guest."

"He doesn't look like he's got any more hope to lose," Deadeye retorted.

"Somewhere in his mind he still prays for deliverance," Manzeppi said. "When his friends come to save him and they fail, then we will present him with the one way left to preserve his pathetic life."

"But you haven't even called them with the instructions for the ransom meet," Deadeye pointed out.

"I don't need to," Manzeppi said smoothly. "They are already looking for our little hideout. And thanks to my strategic selection of its location, I would imagine that our neighbors have already informed Mr. West and Mr. Gordon of where to come."

"And what if they don't bring the chicken?" Deadeye did not look pleased. "They're probably hoping to ambush us."

"I'm certain they are," Manzeppi agreed. "They won't bring the chicken to an ambush. But after they are all dead, we can commence our search for the chicken. It must be at that golf club."

"That's true," Deadeye mused. "But they'd better show up soon. I'm itching for some more action."

"And you shall have it, Deadeye," Manzeppi smiled. "We shall all have it."

xxxx

Lucrece and Pinto were on the front porch by the time Arte pulled up in front of their house. They came down the steps to meet the other group, Lucrece tense and Pinto fairly at ease.

"We don't know what's happening over there right now," Lucrece said to Arte without so much as a Hello. "It quieted down shortly after I called you."

"I don't like the sound of that," Arte frowned. "Either Snakes passed out or they've stopped for some other reason."

"Whatever it is, you can bet it's not good," Coley supplied.

Arte's group exited the car and came onto the sidewalk. Jim immediately took control of the situation. "Miss Posey, we want to cut through your backyard to the other lot," he declared. "It might give us an element of surprise."

"Oh, feel free," Lucrece said with an irritated gesture. "We would like this madness cleared up as soon as possible."

"Thank you," Jim said with a nod. He started towards the backyard, the others trailing after him.

"Of course, you realize this Count Manzeppi may be waiting for you," Lucrece remarked. She kept to the side of the house, her arms folded, as she and Pinto walked alongside the procession.

"We realize," Jim confirmed. "But that doesn't change anything."

"For you, it wouldn't," Lucrece said. "You're always the noble swashbuckler."

Arte glanced back at her. "It _would_ help if you and Pinto could sort of stand by, just in case it is a trap and something goes wrong. It would be comforting to know that someone was aware of our little predicament."

"What makes you think we'd do anything to help you, especially with Snakes involved?" Pinto drawled. "We only helped that other time because the whole world was in danger and we would've kicked the bucket too."

Arte just gave a faux awkward smile as he continued, "Yes, but you still don't want to get in trouble for knowing people are getting hurt and doing nothing about it."

Lucrece scowled. "We'll stand by."

"How generous of you, Miss Posey," Arte said with a mock bow.

Lucrece and Pinto watched as Jim jumped over the fence, followed by Arte and the rest of the crew. Then, his eyes glinting, Pinto crept closer to the fence as well.

"Just how close are you planning to stand by?" Lucrece asked.

Pinto smirked. "Hey, as long as we have to, I'd like to see exactly what's going on."

"What you really mean is that you'd like to see if there's going to be any more torture," Lucrece bluntly pointed out.

A shrug. "I can't fool you. Not that I'd ever try." Pinto grinned at her and then looked back to the group. Having found the back door unlocked, Jim and company were trouping inside. The door shut quietly behind them.

"I should hope not," Lucrece retorted in what she hoped was a stern voice. She knew she could trust Pinto. And she knew that spying on what was happening was actually a logical idea under the circumstances.

She, however, preferred to stand by near the fence.

xxxx

Arte looked around uneasily once they stood inside the abandoned factory. "That was a little too easy," he worried. "Surely you agree."

Jim's eyes narrowed. "Yeah. Manzeppi's expecting us."

"And that means you've walked right into a trap," Luther sneered as he stepped out from behind a stack of crates.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Coley grunted.

"Where's Snakes?!" Ray demanded. "We know you have him here."

"You'll see him soon," Luther said smoothly. "The Count _wants_ you to see him. It's all part of his plan."

"That really isn't very reassuring," Arte declared.

The fight started without warning when Luther and also Dodo lunged at the group. Jim and Coley lunged right back, leading the charge. Punches and kicks flew on both sides, as well as the people they were directed against. At length Luther and Dodo had managed to lead the others deeper into the building. As Jim moved to attack again, a cage came down from the ceiling and trapped him and the rest neatly inside.

"What the . . . ?!" Coley leaped for the side as the cage clanged down, but he wasn't quick enough to leap out. And the bars, once down, were immovable.

Ray backed up, his eyes wide in horror. He couldn't be trapped in a cage. Even after all this time, that was still something that made him flash back to the torture he had endured at Dr. Portman's hands for over two years. "Let us out!" he screamed. "You can't lock us up like this! Let us out!"

Coley spun around and hurried back to him. "Ray, it's alright," he tried to tell him. "We're going to get out of this."

Ray took a deep, shuddering breath, trembling as he tried to calm down. "I don't see how," he said morosely. "Not unless Posey and Pinto actually do something. And I don't trust them!"

"West and Gordon always have tricks up their sleeves," Coley reminded him. "Posey and Pinto probably won't jump in unless there's clearly no other way. Let's wait a few minutes and see what happens."

Jim looked to them in concern before turning his attention to the room outside the cage. "What's going on, Count?" he called. His voice echoed, giving an eerie sense of isolation.

After a moment, heavy footsteps filled the room and a large shadow grew in size on the floor as Count Manzeppi approached. "Ah, good evening again, Gentlemen," he purred. "It was so good of you to join us, and all for the sake of your cowardly little friend."

"I wouldn't have ever thought I'd hear myself say it, but Tolliver's changed a lot," Coley retorted. "He's still afraid of death, sure, but he doesn't let that stop him when something needs doing."

Manzeppi grimaced. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear you say that, Mr. Rodman. Only I'm not, because it makes things all the more deliciously ironic." He smiled in his cruelly knowing way.

"What have you done, Count?" Jim stepped forward, the angry, warning tone in his voice signaling that he had been pushed too far.

Manzeppi half-turned, gesturing to someone just out of their view. "Bring him."

Presently Deadeye dragged a limp and hopeless Snakes just in front of the cage and deposited him on the floor in a sorry heap. Snakes flinched, pushing himself up to his knees. His bangs came loose, drifting over his right eye.

Arte stared in sickened horror. "Snakes . . ." He gripped the bars. "Count, I was never sure how low you'd stoop, but this has to be the most sickening thing you've done yet. Both Snakes and Mr. Norman have been badly tortured in the past, which I'm sure you know, and tonight you've deliberately put them in situations where they've had to relive their worst fears!"

"Oh, I'm afraid it gets much worse than this, Mr. Gordon," Manzeppi replied with that same smile. "Benji?"

Jim tensed as Benji stepped out from the shadows, a hypodermic needle in his hand.

That was too much for Ray. "What are you doing?!" he screamed, running over to the bars. "You can't do it! You _can't!_ " He shook them with all his might, desperate to get out and stop whatever cruel thing was about to happen next. But it was no use.

Deadeye stood by, smirking in sadistic enjoyment as Benji knelt to be at Snakes' eye level. Seeing the needle, Snakes turned and stared at it in confusion.

Count Manzeppi stepped closer. "You see this, Mr. Tolliver? The substance inside it is something you know all too well. It's the same poison with which Miss Lucrece Posey ended your life in 1871."

Coley swore. Ray and Arte and Lafe stared in shock and horror. Jim desperately ran through a mental list of the gadgets he currently had with him. There _had_ to be something in his possession that would stop this!

Snakes shook his head, pushing himself away from Benji and the needle. "No . . ." He backed up into Deadeye's legs and froze. He was boxed in.

"I would hate to see your restored life ended so unnecessarily and abruptly," Manzeppi continued. "But there is a way to save yourself."

"Count . . ." The anger continued to mount in Jim's eyes and voice.

Arte tried to inconspicuously search his pockets. There was a smoke bomb or some other type of distracting device in there, if only he could find it! It wouldn't help any of them in the cage, but maybe it would give Snakes enough time to get away . . . if he wasn't too badly hurt to stand up.

Manzeppi ignored them. "Join us, Mr. Tolliver!"

"What?!" Snakes looked up at him in shock. "You've been beating me up. Why would I want to join you?!"

"To keep yourself alive." Manzeppi smiled. "As I understand it, you made many alliances in the past just for that purpose. What's one more?"

"Don't listen to him, Tolliver!" Coley snapped in mounting panic. Now it was starting to make some semblance of sense. Manzeppi had wanted to weaken Snakes' willpower until he was desperate enough that he might revert back to some of his old behavior. But . . . why? What use would Snakes be to him?

Snakes was clearly wondering the same thing. "Why would you want me in your organization?" he frowned. "After what I did to Posey, how could you trust me?"

"I could if you do something to prove yourself," Manzeppi replied.

Suddenly Jim got it. "You want Snakes to kill us," he realized.

"Oh, very good, Mr. West. I wouldn't have expected anything less from you." A revolver appeared in Manzeppi's gloved hand. "There are five bullets in here, Mr. Tolliver, enough for every one of them. But really, I only want you to kill Mr. West and Mr. Gordon. The rest are of little consequence to me."

Lafe gaped. "Snakes won't do that," he objected. "Not now, not after everything they've been through!"

Snakes stared dumbly at the gun. "And if I don't do it?"

"Then Benji will immediately inject you with the poison and you will be dead once again." Manzeppi nodded to Benji and he advanced, bringing the needle dangerously close to Snakes' neck.

Snakes held still, frozen in terror, unable to look away from the needle.

"You surely remember just like it was yesterday," Manzeppi said, almost hypnotically. "The feel of Miss Posey's fingernail raking across your cheek. The immediate introduction of the poison into your system. The sensation of every part of your body shutting down. . . ."

"Stop it, Count!" Arte cried.

Manzeppi went on as though he hadn't heard. "I've heard this poison is very painful, even though it kills so quickly. And then of course, death is only the beginning. Then you're left with an eternity for other lost souls to seize upon you and mutilate you day after day until you're quite out of your mind. After that, perhaps you don't care as much anymore. Perhaps by then you've resigned yourself to your fate. . . ."

Snakes' shoulders slumped and he looked down. He was quaking now, and Arte realized in sickened horror that he was sobbing. The Count and Deadeye had definitely broken him. And from Ray's expression, this was all too much like deja vu for him. Coley gripped his shoulder.

"Alright," Snakes snarled without warning. He got to his feet almost in one movement and snatched the gun out of Manzeppi's hand. "I am _not_ gonna die again! Not now, not like this. Not for a long time!"

Arte shut his eyes tightly. "Oh Snakes . . ."

Jim wasn't about to give up. "Snakes . . ." But he trailed off as he really took in the scene.

Snakes wasn't pointing the gun at them at all. Instead he fired point-blank at Manzeppi, who had no choice but to promptly vanish. Snakes had snapped, alright, but not in the way Manzeppi had planned. Next he turned the gun on Benji, followed by Deadeye. The fourth bullet was collectively aimed at Luther and Dodo. All of Manzeppi's lackeys were forced to dive for cover.

The fifth bullet was aimed at the lock on the cage. As it broke and Arte cheered, the now-empty gun fell from Snakes' hand. The adrenaline rush over, he fell to his knees and covered his face with his hands.

Jim pushed the door open and hurried out to look for Deadeye in particular. Knowing the demented robot as he did, Jim feared that he would circle back and try to gun Snakes down. Being shot at without warning by someone he had supposedly broken would make Deadeye furious and vengeful.

Coley had similar ideas, but he was worried about Ray and didn't like to leave him at this point. "Are you alright?" he asked as they walked out of the cage.

Ray gave a shaky nod. "Y-Yes. It was Snakes who went through the worst trial. . . ." He looked to their friend in concern.

Arte and Lafe were kneeling down beside Snakes. "Snakes?" Arte gripped Snakes' shoulder. "Snakes, it's alright. It's over."

Feeling awkward and worried both, Lafe touched Snakes' other shoulder. "Snakes? Hey, you did really good. You didn't give in to what he wanted."

Snakes finally looked up. "I hate him," he spat. "I hate him and Deadeye and all those other creeps who ganged up on me. I hate that he was using me to get rid of his enemies. I hate that he thought I was so weak it'd work." He clenched his fists. "I hate that it almost did."

"Were you going to go through with it?" Arte quietly asked.

"No," Snakes admitted. "I never considered that. But Deadeye got me broke down enough that I checked out of reality. I just couldn't take the torture happening to me again, even just for a couple of hours or however long it's been. Then Manzeppi let me see all of you coming in and I thought everything would be okay, that you'd rescue me. I hated being so weak that I needed rescuing, but I was so grateful I didn't care about how it would make me look. And you all got caught instead. . . ." He shook his head. "I lost any hope at that point."

"Which was just what he wanted you to do," Arte said with new and mounting anger towards Count Manzeppi.

"He offered me that one ray of hope by joining him, and I'll admit I considered that for maybe a split-second. I thought maybe I could join just long enough to make the pain stop, you know? But then I realized he'd never let me in for free, not when he thought I was nothing. Even if I'd done what he wanted, he probably would've killed me right after." Snakes slammed his hand on the floor. "I should've been stronger! I should have held out better against the torture. Then maybe it never would have got to this point. And it never would have happened at all if Manzeppi hadn't known what a weak-kneed idiot I've been in the past! Or if I hadn't been one for him to find out about."

"Hey, hey!" Lafe came around to look into Snakes' eyes. "We've all done things we're not proud of. I think the past has come back to bite all of us sooner or later. But the important thing to remember is that you were strong tonight. Okay, you checked out of reality, but you came back in time to figure out the Count's game. You didn't let him fool you. And you actually sent him running. Not just anyone could do that!"

Snakes looked at him doubtfully, yet gratefully. "I guess. . . ."

"He's right," Coley said gruffly. "You did good tonight, Tolliver."

Snakes managed a ghost of a smile, but it was genuine.

Jim ran back at that point, frustrated and disgusted. "They've all left," he reported. "Either they sneaked out or Manzeppi teleported them."

"And Posey and Pinto did nothing," Coley stated.

"Pinto was out there," Jim reported. "He was watching through the window. He claimed he would have shot Snakes down if Snakes had really turned the gun on us."

"I don't believe it," Arte proclaimed. "Having us out of the way would be only too good for them."

Jim nodded. "I agree, Arte. But there's no way to prove that what he was saying wasn't true. Miss Posey would side with him, of course."

"If they'd really wanted to help us, they would've got the whole gang together and stormed the place after we were caught," Coley pointed out. "They wouldn't have let things get to the point where Manzeppi was trying to manipulate Tolliver into doing his dirty work."

Snakes shuddered. He didn't know if Pinto had been training his gun on him from the window, but he could easy enough imagine it was true. And that was definitely not something he liked picturing on top of everything else that had just happened.

"Wait a minute," he gasped. "Why's Pinto out there?! Did Manzeppi invite him to watch?!"

"No, but we're in back of their house," Arte told him. "I'm afraid he watched uninvited before we got here."

Snakes groaned, passing a hand over his face. "Great."

Arte sighed. "Oh well. Everything turned out alright overall." He started to stand, drawing Snakes to his feet at the same time. Snakes stumbled but soon got his balance.

"You shouldn't be alone tonight," Ray said in a kind and knowing way. "Come back to the club, Snakes."

Snakes looked to him in surprise, but slowly nodded. "Okay. Thanks." He spoke quietly, still mortified on some level, yet realizing Ray was right. He didn't want to be alone tonight.

Jim looked him up and down. "Maybe you need a hospital."

"No," Snakes exclaimed. "No, I'm alright. A lot of what happened was more psychological than physical." He shuddered. "Please . . . I don't wanna go to the hospital. I just want to feel safe." He shut his eyes tightly. He felt so vulnerable right now. But he trusted every one of the people in the room. They wouldn't judge him for his fears.

"And you will," Arte assured him. "Count Manzeppi will think twice before he tries to hurt you again. Maybe thrice."

"Yeah, but will the golf club be safe?" Jim wondered. "Where do you think they all went after they left here?"

A sick look spread over Arte's features. "Back to Oak Bridge to find the chicken," he moaned.

"They won't find it," Lafe insisted.

Coley started and looked to him. "Yeah? Why not?"

"Because I hid it while everybody was looking for Snakes." Lafe slowly pulled it out of his vest pocket.

Everybody stared. "You had that with you all this time?!" Arte cried in horror. "What if Count Manzeppi had thought to have us searched?"

"He didn't, though," Lafe grinned. "He figured we were all coming in for the ambush and wouldn't bring it with us, so I thought I'd try some of that reverse psychology stuff. Coley and me used to pull tricks like that a lot."

Coley gave him a hard look. "Part of me wants to say that was a really bad idea. After all, West says Manzeppi's an expert on figuring out what people are gonna do." His expression lightened. "The other part says it was a good job and a great way to thumb our noses at that loony magician."

Arte shook his head. "I have to admit, I rather like the irony."

"Well, Count Manzeppi won't," Jim pointed out. "We're going to have to hide it again in case they're at the golf club when we go back."

"Maybe some of us should take out a hotel room in the city under assumed names," Ray suggested. "The chicken could be kept in the room or in the hotel safe."

"Perhaps," Arte mused. "The Count might be expecting a move like that if he realizes the chicken isn't at Oak Bridge."

"But he wouldn't be likely to pick out the right hotel or the right names," Coley pointed out. "This isn't some hick town in the 1870s; this is a sprawling metropolis. I'd hate to count how many hotels there are in town."

"Rodman has a point," Jim declared. "It's a good idea, at least for tonight."

"So how about Coley and I'll take Snakes to a hotel and you, Gordon, and Mr. Norman will go back to Oak Bridge?" Lafe suggested.

Jim and Arte exchanged a look. "Alright," Jim agreed. "We'll try it."

"I don't like the three of you going off without one of us along, though," Arte frowned. "Just in case the Count does manage to find you by some amazing shred of luck."

"If both of you don't show up at Oak Bridge and Manzeppi really _is_ there, he'll suspect something's up with the chicken," Coley said. "If you guys are both there and it's just me and Lafe and Tolliver who're gone, he might think we're just trying to calm Tolliver down after what happened."

"He might," Arte said, "or he might not."

"We'll have to take that chance," Jim said. "And it might be a good idea to have one of those decoy chickens on hand. I'll talk to Mr. Lindsey about it."

"The filming has stopped by now," Arte objected. "He must be in bed. And we didn't think to get his contact information."

"Then I'll have to go to Mitch Cantrell," Jim realized. "Mr. Lindsey said he has a house right on the lot. He might help me get one of the decoys."

Arte winced. "Oh, I don't envy you that task."

"Me either, Arte, but someone has to do it," Jim said.

They headed out of the building, all on alert in case of a new surprise. But none came.

"I see you're both still standing by," Arte said to Lucrece and Pinto as they reached the fence separating the properties.

"And no one came out this way, just as I told West." Pinto folded his arms, looking thoughtfully at Snakes.

Snakes just stared. He had hoped Pinto would have left. He was the last person Snakes wanted to see after what he had just been through.

Jim tried to defuse the awkward moment by climbing over the fence first. "Can you make it?" he asked Snakes, who gave a shaking nod.

"Yeah." Gripping the fence, Snakes forced himself up and over to the other side. It hurt, but he wasn't going to show weakness around his old enemy.

The others quickly followed. "Thanks for your help," Jim said when they were all across.

Lucrece gave a slow and wary nod. "I hope it won't be necessary again any time soon."

"Me too," Snakes muttered under his breath.

"You should be grateful to us," Pinto sneered. "Lucrece called your friends and told them you were here."

Snakes looked up, pushing his hat back. "Sure, I'm grateful for that," he retorted. "But we both know you didn't do it out of any concern for me. I wouldn't expect you to."

"No, we sure wouldn't," Pinto agreed. "But that being said, it was surprising in a good way to see you lash out at those characters."

Snakes cringed. "I figured you'd watched that when I realized you were out here."

A shrug. "That was the only way we were going to see if we needed to do more than stand by."

Lucrece looked bored. "We never would have recruited Snakes into the board if he hadn't shown that he could be valuable." She looked hard at Jim. "Now, if you would all kindly _leave . . ._ "

"Of course," Jim said with a calm touch to the brim of his hat. "Goodnight."

The group quickly made their way back to the vehicle they had come in. There were a lot of plans to be made in the next hours.


End file.
